Come Free
by scout27
Summary: Time passes, but some things never change. No one said it would be easy to raise children and John and Aeryn learn just how hard it can be when they try to save the daughter that they barely know and mend a family torn apart by old enemies.
1. Prologue

**Come Free**

_**Unending night**_

_we all flirt with the tiniest notion, of self conclusion in one simplified motion...the trick is that you're never s'possed to act on it. no matter how unbearable this misery gets._

Aeryn stands ridged outside the grated doors; finally finding the perfect spot to quietly settle, out of her daughters sight but still able to see her clearly. She leans her body close against the hard bulkhead to her right, letting Moya's lining cool her forehead and her exposed skin.

_Why is it so damn hot in here?_

She is burning hot, so frelling hot, yet it isn't the environment that's causing the problem; it's the girl; the girl who was gradually growing into a woman.

She was only a baby last time Aeryn had seen her; a small child, all innocence and play. Small enough to hold close to her chest yet old enough to begin talking and hugging her back.

_How the frell is this even possible?_

She can't take her eyes off the bunk where the girl sits; they are glued to her, mesmerized. The girl is so much her father and so much…well, her.

The girl sighs, annoyed at the confines of her current situation, and blows a strand of lose hair from her face with the side of her mouth. Sandy blond hair pulled back tightly with a standard issue Peacekeeper hair tie, loose tendrils falling and softly sweeping the sides of her face. The gesture is a visible sign of her growing impatience; impatience that is quickly leading to frustration.

Their daughter still has the same piercing blue eyes she had as a child, the same eyes her father carries to this day. They are sharp and unending, deep like a great body of water.

The blue reminds Aeryn of John's earth.

Something she'd always loved about him she now sees so clearly in their offspring.

The girl is tall and thin, like her body has decided to grow up before it had a chance to grow out and catch up with itself. Yet she is muscular from years of training as a Peacekeeper cadet. Hard, almost cruel training Aeryn is all too familiar with. Training that has a way of turning small girls into rigid, lean fighters. Her face still held soft, fine features. So much of John, and yet the face is where she saw herself shining through as well.

Her daughter; she still can't wrap her mind around that glaringly overwhelming concept - has her mouth, her cheek bones, and a few freckles spotted on her nose and forehead. Still in the process of growing, her leathers hang loosely on her chest and her hips, waiting to be filled out.

She picks up a small, silver trinket that her father had set at the foot of the bunk before the concept of her occupying it had even entered their mind. It is something from the girl's childhood, a childhood that they were unwilling to let go of, unwilling to put away. A chapter of their life that they had left opened until they could continue it.

They had never lost the hope that they _would_ be able to continue it, make it right. The trinket is a child's toy, something common and replaceable, yet she looks at it with a sense of wonder. Something that should have been so familiar to her, yet it was as foreign as a Luxan in water. She turns the small child's puzzle in her fingers gingerly and sets it down as if touching it will contaminate her.

She takes another quick look around her quarters and finally the dam of emotion breaks.

In the seeming privacy of the room, the girl doesn't even try to hide her confusion and fear. Small fists wipe at large tears, a dripping nose, and tired eyes. She continues on like this for some time finally giving up and lying back on the bunk due to sheer exhaustion, and all Aeryn can think of is holding her, comforting her child the way she should have been able to all along.

Before she even has a chance to reign in her unhinging emotions, her own tears are wetting her face.

So much guilt; there is so much guilt waiting to come to the surface.

So much missed time, so much to make up for. So much that they can't change and so much that they'll never know.

These are feelings that she can't remember having dealt with in a very long time, if ever.

This is her child, part of her and part of John. A product of their love, a concept that used to be so frelling foreign to her, something she couldn't even wrap her mind around; didn't _want _to wrap her mind around. And then she held D'Argo in her arms for the first time, and couldn't imagine her life any other way. Any hope of going back to the way things were before was lost at that point.

They were more than a part of her.

They ARE her.

This girl is her, and yet she doesn't even know the child. She softly wipes at her check before deciding to just let the tears fall. Fall into nothing, because that's what she feels like doing. She has never, in all of her cycles, shied away from a task, a challenge. She is a soldier. But this task, this emotional task, it seems almost overwhelming to her.

She feels a soft brush on her bare shoulder, a sweeping dance of rough fingers and gentle touch.

"S'okay baby; Things are gonna get better from here. The hard part's over. We've got her, we've got her back and we won't let her go for a long time," her husband whispers in her ear, quite aware of her position as spy. He softly kisses her temple and she rests her hand on top of his as it sits on her shoulder.

She leans into him, relying on his strength, something she rarely felt the need to do, but this is bigger than even her. She shakes her head slightly, making her uncertainty known, and lets the tears continue to softly fall, cooling her cheeks. It's _not_ okay. None of it's okay. It would take a long time before any of this could _possibly_ be okay.


	2. Chapter 1: Not as Easy as it Seems

**Not as Easy as it Seems**

_(Three solar days prior) _

"I just got the transmission; we're in range. We can't let this one just slip through our fingers, Aeryn. Even if there isn't much of a chance," He says in a quickened drawl, barging right into her personal space as he always does when trying to make a point.

"There was a time when a chance was all you needed to light your Prowler on fire and set you off on a mission, one track mind, consequences be damned!" John continues to rage without a breath, his voice rising just beyond the confines of calm. The tone and volume coming together to form a point, a string of small details and intonations Aeryn's picked up over the cycles.

She's learned to read his every move; his subtle changes in mood.

"I don't know if I can do this any more, John. It's not the consequences of our actions that bother me. It's been so long. Even if we find her at this point, who's to say she'll want anything to do with what we stand for, with us? They've been feeding her who frelling knows what kind of ideas for cycles now! She won't even know us. She's more than likely a soldier; trained for one thing and one thing only."

"So what, you just give up? That's not the Aeryn I know. Seven years is a long time, but she's still a kid. She needs us, and I'm sure as hell not going to leave her out there if I have another chance to bring her back! She is part of us Aeryn, she's part of this family and we made a vow to protect them and keep them safe the minute we decided to go at this together. D'Argo, Jack, and her. There is no difference. She's your daughter!"

"Don't forget who I am; don't forget where I've come from, John!" Aeryn growls with fixed eyes, anger clawing at the back of her mind.

"I know these people, you don't. You don't know what the hezmana goes on in a command carrier during training…" She stops herself before finishing the thought, wondering if this isn't maybe more about something within her than it is about finding their daughter. Something she knows she can't turn away from, no matter how long it's been.

She looks at John, realizing he senses the change in her posture, her stance, and her stubborn smirk.

_Frelling scared._

She always reacts in a similar manner when fear makes itself painfully evident. But this is so close to his heart. SO close to both of them, that he apparently hasn't realized what he is saying. She's still learning about all of this, after so much time. Fear, sadness, guilt…love and family. All of it natural, none of it honed.

Even after almost 18 cycles together, knowing each other, she still has a hard time letting go of some of the rigidity that has gotten her through so much in her life as a Peacekeeper, as a prisoner, and as an outlaw. It's all she had known. He's still trying to show her the entirety of what's beyond that.

She doesn't need a savior, and she doesn't need a source of strength. But she does need him, and he's well aware of that fact.

John crosses the short distance left between them and takes Aeryn's small frame into his arms. He feels her shoulders lurch as she begins to sob quietly and he strengthens his grip around her, kissing her hair, breathing her in; the smell of flowers, fruit, air, of his wife.

"I know, I know. Shhhh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. It's just; I can't turn away from this chance. There's still just a little bit of my sorry human brain that thinks we can find her; that we can make this right. They took her away. We'll take her back. And we'll end this…" John trails off.

Aeryn can't help but feel a small smile peak through her tear stained face. He makes this absolutely, frelling insane situation sound so simple she wants to laugh.

Maybe he is right. Maybe they can find her and take back some of that childhood she lost by no choice of theirs. She is scared. Aeryn Sun is scared and she doesn't know how to react. What if he _is_ right? What if they do find her? She doesn't know how to raise a girl, let alone a girl that doesn't frelling know her, a girl that has lived most of her life without her mother.

She doesn't have time to follow that train of thought any further as their moment of slow dancing debate is interrupted by the fast patter of small boots and the noise of fake gunfire and warfare as it comes tearing into their quarters.

"Mommy, dad, check it out! Look what I made!" their youngest son chatters with pride. He turned seven two weekens ago, and the excitement of old age has yet to loosen its grip on his mind. He is all smiles and all his father.

If D'Argo had taken on more of her personality as he had grown older, Jack was his father through and through. From his mischievous, sincere smile, to his walk, to his penchance for humor even if the joke was only funny to his little boy brain. He's holding up a tattered, make shift, module of some sort. Sloppily painted and patched together. A piece of dren to most, but a treasure to him.

"What's this little man?" John laughs kneeling to his small son's height.

"Looks like the most awesome PK Prowler I've seen since, well…since the one you made last week, I think! Let me see that!" he says, taking the toy from the boy and looking it over, giving it a few test swoops and throwing in his own sound effects for good measure.

"Yup, this ones a keeper, J!" John laughs. "Looks like it could get more mileage than my first car, and it doesn't even have an engine."

Their son beams with pride; smile wide with a missing front tooth. His blond hair is in his eyes and Aeryn realizes she needs to cut it. She reaches a hand out and sweeps a loose piece from his eye and he instantly reaches to brush her hand away and laughs.

"Mom stop it, I already brushed it today!" He's full of good humor and she knows that this is a white lie at best, but she doesn't nag; she never nags.

"Okay, okay…" she smiles at him. She feels love and pride swell in her chest, a feeling that still shocks her on occasion. A pang of something she barely recognizes pulling at her insides.

She made this little creature; she and John made this. And their three children were the best things they had ever accomplished.

An old and tired red, white, and blue DRD his father named 1812 all those cycles ago has slowly followed their son in to the quarters. Jack had taken him in as a pet, a playmate when they are away from populated areas, taking over where John left off. The DRD is run down and needs to be rewired so it can take on most of the tasks that were once simple and routine.

She has thought about fixing it up on several occasions, but when she sees the joy it brings her son, she decides that this DRD is serving its purpose just fine as is.

"Why don't you go show your brother." John suggests with a wink.

Jack has a knack for building and flying where D'Argo is more interested and comfortable with theory and numbers. They fit together like a pilot and his plane. Unless they are at odds, in which case they could fight like wild Trachnars regardless of the age difference, Jack's seven cycle old body a force to be reckoned with.

He spins on his heels and waits for his slow moving companion shouting, "C'mon 1812…" in that sing songy voice of impatience that must be instinctive to children before he finally becomes preoccupied with something flitting through his brain, and high tails it down the corridor towards Command where D'Argo spends his time studying during the afternoon hours.

John looks at Aeryn and smiles. "That boy wears me out sometimes. He's like a puppy on uppers."

She has no idea what the last part of his statement means, but she's grown accustomed to the confusion with his use of words over the cycles and it doesn't matter right now, anyway.

She has come to her resolve, frell the uncertainty; she steels her spine and prepares herself to tell him that they must do this. They have to look for her. They have to set out on this hard journey again, no matter what fear she has of failing. None of it matters, this time they have to come back with their daughter.

"We're doing this. John. We have to do this. I have to do this." She pauses with a deep breath, making sure she's ready to risk the heartache if this ends the way all of the other attempts have.

Disappointment.

Hopelessness.

Sadness.

Old wounds reopened like it was the very day they had lost her. John reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair from her cheek.

"_We_ have to do this. We'll find her this time. I have a feeling…" he trails off trying to hide the doubt in his voice from her as he rests his chin on her head, but they have known each other far too long for that to work.

She can sense it, and he can sense that she does. He grabs her hand and squeezes.

"I'm going to review the transmission again, see if I can't make out any more details. Then we'll do what we have to do to have Pilot get us in range to contact Jothee. We're going to move as fast as we can, and we're not going to let this one slip through our fingers. Not this time," A typical Crichton plan coming into fruition before her eyes.

The girl was his little princess and Aeryn knows that he means his words as much as she feels them.

Together. They are in this together, always together. And they would come out on the other side of it together.

_Plus one, if fate has their backs this time._

She watches him palm the key pad and rush out the door, down the corridor, and she sits at the small side table gazing after him until he is out of sight.

The heavy knowledge of what she has to do causes her shoulders to drop. Going back is hard, now that she knows how to feel.

She will do it though; try and remember. To revive the Peacekeeper side of her brain that had long ago become less necessary, less prominent, and less something she longed to use. She needs that knowledge now more than ever and she will do what she has to do in order to recall it.

- -

John watches the transmission for the seventh time, trying to read into it, trying to find any information that might lie buried just under the surface. It all seems too easy. There must be something he's missing, or something that might make getting her back more difficult than it seemed it would be. Or, at worst, something that would put them in more danger than was already evident by the fact that they were doing this in the first place. He stares at Jothee's face projected in the air before him and rubs the hair at the nape of his neck roughly. If Jothee were right, if this were true, then this would be there best chance yet to snag their daughter before she was lost to them again. But he is no damn hero; that isn't his game any more, not that he was ever very good at it to begin with.

_You'll be your own kind of hero,_ his father had said to him on that day, the day that would change the course of his life.

In a way, he supposed he was. He chose what to do with the knowledge he possessed, had unwittingly been given, but now his only concern was keeping his family safe and making up for being unable to do that with her all those years ago. He would do what he needed to do.

"Planet…with a stable atmosphere…PK planet side regime cadet training…She's there…Jothee confirmed it…" he mumbles out loud to himself. "Minimal security detail…with the backing of the Luxan camp…this is gonna be our best shot. This is it…it's now or never John. You wanna be a hero? Do it now."

He's is attempting to talk himself up, something he's always done when he feels that twinge of nerves twisting his stomach or a sense of fear gnawing at the back of his mind. Self fulfilling prophecy.

_You make yourself or break yourself._

And even though his prophecy usually tended to be wrong, he sure as hell wasn't going to stop telling himself that he was a kick ass soldier, not just "John Crichton, astronaut from earth with no intergalactic skills to speak of," Hell, he'd surely learned a bit of something since he was thrown head first into this life.

_Baptized by fire and damn did it hurt._

John is pacing now, following the same four foot path on the empty flight deck. He feels a cool breeze on his cheek from an air vent over his head and hears the soft whirring and beeping of some DRD's going about their business in the back of the bay, repairing some kind of tear in the outer lining of the hull, and as he watches the mundane activity he realizes how tired he is. Twelve hours straight he's been at this. No interruptions from Aeryn or either of the boys, from Pilot or Grandma (thank goodness for the small things); he needs sleep desperately.

He hits the control pad on the transmission deck, grabs the data chip from its slot as it ejects, and pockets it swiftly. He has to crash for a few hours at least, so he can attempt to navigate the most time sensitive course to their destination with Pilot and Aeryn.

He wanders lazily down the corridor, one foot slowly in front of the other. The lights are dim; it must have been later in the sleep cycle than he had thought. He stops for a microt outside of the boys' quarters, where he hears snoring from one and a slight mumbling from the other. He can't help but smile at the thought that their family might be complete again soon.

His little girl, the smiling, sweet baby with blond curls and bright blue eyes that looked at him with adoration as she clung to his neck and kissed his cheek, the girl to balance out his boys and keep her mother in check.

John's determination rises and he feels heat in his cheeks at the prospect of brining her home, a second wind coming and going in a matter of microts. He shoves his hands in his pockets and continues the short remaining distance, stopping to check and gauge whether or not Aeryn has fallen asleep.

Waking her in the middle of the night is never a good idea.

She may still be smaller than him, but she is also still a hell of a lot stronger, not to mention grouchy when woken unexpectedly. Something he has regretfully learned on one too many occasions.

All he hears is silence and all he sees is dark, so he proceeds to palm the door pad as quietly as he can manage. He sneaks into the corner and works his way out of pants and shirt, boots and holster, eager for the feel of the soft cloth touching his bare skin. It's dark, and he's not very good at navigating the blackness which is made painfully evident as he slams his big toe into the corner of the bed.

"_Shit_!" he exclaims before realizing his mistake and quickly clasping his hands over his mouth.

He stands deathly still, waiting for Aeryn to give him a good what for, but all he hears is the ruffling of sheets and a turn in the bed. Her breathing is still regular. After a few microts, he decides it's safe to continue the treacherous journey, finally pulling back the covers and sliding in next to her, savoring the feel of the cool fabric on his legs and his chest; against the contrast of his wife's warm back.

He curls as close to her as he can without disturbing her.

He can't remember life without her, but he remembers every moment of it with her. Every night crawling into bed beside her, every kiss, every hug, every tear, and every fight and he wouldn't trade a second of it. But he might change some of the details if he could. The moment they realized that she had slipped from their grasp would definitely be one thing he could do without. Many nights of tired, alcohol induced thoughts had proven that.

The thought sends his tired mind reeling, back to a time before all of that, all of those feelings that have become as real on a daily basis as eating, breathing, and pissing. Back to a time when he didn't have any guilt and he didn't have a child who was living a life somewhere else, taken straight out from under his fucking nose.

He shifts as quietly as he can and is barely able to make out the outline of Aeryn's soft face in the backlight from the corridor.

He thinks of her and her small, protruding belly.

God, she was beautiful when she was pregnant.

Even more beautiful than she normally is, if that's even possible.

She had finally fallen pregnant again four years after having D'. It had been a struggle, but they had both agreed to continue trying.

John wanted more children, and Aeryn had surprisingly taken to motherhood. She _said_ that she wanted more children as well, if it were what _he_ wanted. But he knew her better than that. He could tell that, even though she might not be saying it directly, she wanted it as much as he did, if not more. D' was four and she was itching to take care of another baby. She was damn good at it too.

Something else he found incredible about her, she was a natural.

She never ceased to surprise him.

This soldier, his wife, hard as a rock and mean as a snake if she wanted to be, was an amazing mother. She was gentle and patient, affectionate and loving, but not overbearing.

After the second year of trying they had almost lost hope that they would have any luck. Not that they stopped attempting, hell, the attempting was most of the fun, but their confidence in the baby making aspect of it was growing slim.

It was luck that Aeryn had come down with a nasty cold, or something of the sort, on their last docking on a Sebacean inhabited planet. He had forced her to the medical complex for some medicines, even if it was just something to help her sleep the sickness off.

Familiar species, familiar practices, and they had noticed right away that there was an embryo to release from stasis just based on the simple blood work. Four years and five weeks after the end of a war and the birth of their first son, Aeryn was pregnant with their second child.

Geometric pregnancy was still something of a shock to his system. Not that he knew anything about being pregnant of course, but damn; three or four weeks was not a lot of time to prepare to become a father…again.

Aeryn faired this pregnancy much better than the first, considering the fact that the baby developed fully inside of her this time around instead of in the belly of a little, sneaky, green toad. Before John knew it, he was holding a tiny, pink baby girl in his arms. She was loud from the start, crying and wailing. Trying to get used to the feel of harsh, cool, air in her lungs and on her skin as opposed to the warmth of being surrounded by her mother.

She was feisty and spirited, even as an infant, just like Aeryn.

They had both chosen D's name; it was a team effort. But this one, their little girl, he wanted Aeryn to choose this name.

It didn't take her long to decide, either. She was never much one to waffle around a decision and it seemed that maybe she had thought about this prior to the moment, something so uncharacteristic of her that he couldn't help but laugh as she held the little girl to her chest and kissed her soft cheek and he sat on the side of the cot, one hand on his new baby's head and one hand intertwined in his wife's fingers.

"I guess you would be laughing, considering the fact that I just did all the work." she had ribbed at him as their daughter enjoyed her first meal. He remembered it like it was yesterday.

Talyse'un Sun Crichton. A great Sebacean warrior, a princess of legend, and a princess she was. The little girl wore the name well. He would call her Taly, he had decided in the moment. It fit her perfectly. Besides, he wasn't sure if he could spit that mouthful out every time he needed to chastise her.

She grew so fast, he could barely keep track of her. From feisty infant in diapers, to feisty toddler with blond curls and an unceasing, jabbering mouth; to a small, feisty three year old running the show and owning her big brother. From the moment D' had laid eyes on her, he was a whipped puppy.

He was definitely his sisters' guardian and comrade, a relationship that grew into something so much like what he had had with Liv it was almost uncanny. D' would do anything for his little sister.

Who was he kidding; John himself would do anything for his little princess. So would her mother.

She pretty much owned them all.

Aeryn had fallen even more comfortably into the roll of mom the second time around. If she was good as a mother of one, she was brilliant as a mother of two. Always keeping things in working order, keeping the ship sailing and on course. Always giving enough attention to one without making the other feel neglected or replaced.

She was like a well oiled mother machine.

For the first few years of Taly's life, things progressed fairly normally. Normal for them that is. Traveling the uncharted territories with Pilot, Moya and Noranti, who had stayed aboard even after the war, something neither of them minded. He hated to cook, and Aeryn, well it wasn't her strong suit. It was always nice to have the extra body around, no matter how much trouble she could be.

They would stop at colonized planets for supplies and work. Both he and Aeryn had become quite the pair of traveling mechanics, having an advantage over even the locals thanks to their extensive knowledge of different crafts and modules, engines and drives.

They were an unstoppable team when it came to fixing up a ship of any kind, and they had garnered a name for themselves.

It was a way to make money and keep their family healthy and without need. It was also a very good way to stay the hell out of trouble and live their lives outside of the danger zone of any re-firing of PK versus Scarran politics or general bitching, wormholes, or running for their frelling lives.

He wanted nothing to do with any of it, and neither did his wife. They had this chance to be happy and he would do whatever he needed to do to keep them safe and out of the way of trouble. He'd had quite enough of that thank you very much.

It was on one of these planets, a short stop for clothing (seeing how their daughter was growing out of it faster than they could get it on her small body) and a few minor jobs, that things had all taken a turn for the worse. Fate had decided to bite him in the ass, and this time it took a large chunk of him with it.

Just like any stop, D'Argo and Taly were enrolled in the local schools. It was a good way for them to interact with other kids and they needed that, needed other friends. It was also a good way to expand their education beyond the schooling they got aboard Moya.

The day started out normally, and ended in hell. John had walked the kids through the small village to their schools just like any other day, daughter hoisted on his shoulders one hand on her leg with his son's hand grasped in the other.

It was nice to be on a planet. A planet with water and green things and a sun and sky.

He savored the air on his cheeks and kissed his daughter goodbye as he dropped her at the little people school. It wasn't like preschool on earth because these kids were learning on a totally different level than he had. He just came to refer to it as "little people school." No matter how many times Aeryn tried to correct him with the proper Sebacean title, he just kept up with his name.

He liked it better anyways, and frustrating her was one of his favorite past times. She was nothing if not stubborn and head strong, and besides, it usually led to making up…among other things.

That was the last time he saw her. Aeryn had gone to pick them up at the end of the day only to be greeted by a confused Sebacean teacher and an empty classroom.

"Uniformed guards came to get her; they were official. They said they had clearance with you." The teacher had said, a hint of panic rising in her voice.

Three arns later, John found himself at the law offices picking up his distraught wife and his scared son, who were being detained due to, well, unnecessary roughness if you will.

Aeryn had made her anger and her fear known to the teacher, who suffered little more than a bloody nose and a black eye before the enforcers came to asses the situation.

Peacekeepers; they both knew it. A Peacekeeper battalion had found them and taken their child.

For testing, for information, for a damn wormhole?

It could have been anything. He was a curse and this was his fault. He never should have left her, never should have brought them here.

The guilt spun around and around in his head as they searched for information on where they might have taken her. Scouring incoming and outgoing vessel logs, breaking locked data transmissions, and contacting the few allies they had within the Peacekeeper system, sadly few.

John had never seen Aeryn like she was in the time after Taly's disappearance. She shut down, cried frequently, stopped eating and stopped showing attention to D', who was just as scared and upset as they were, if not more.

She wasn't herself, for the first time since he'd known her; she showed weakness for a long period of time. He didn't know what to do, except to try and comfort them both and search all day for any information on where she had been taken. Day after day of nothing, night after night of the terrible dreams and restless sleep.

_Utter exhaustion._

Weeks spent running from one location to another, being thrown off one command carrier here and another PK enforced planet there until a year had gone by without their daughter. It was a year of fear, and tears, and a well of guilt that ran so deep he wasn't sure if they would ever drain it.

Aeryn blamed herself, blamed him, blamed anything and everything she could, but she eventually worked through her anger, sadness, and guilt until she came to the point of becoming as set on finding her as he was instead of lethargic and blank as she had been. Every day they continued to search, finding fewer and fewer leads until the second year passed with only four failed attempts at even coming close to finding her.

Each year bringing less hope, less opportunity, and the glaring reality that they might never see their daughter again.

Aeryn fell pregnant with Jack two years after Taly went missing. He was a blessing of an accident and just what they needed to remind them that they had a reason to live and to keep fighting.

They had two healthy sons after Jack's birth, and a renewed sense of hope that they could find their daughter if they just kept up the hunt. Aeryn never quite recovered and he wasn't sure that he did either, but they loved Jack and D' so much that giving up wasn't an option.

They would stay strong, for their sons. They came to the agreement together and slowly the patented Aeryn strength that he knew began to work its way back to the surface.

Two years of drought and three more years of false leads and several failed attempts, one almost costing him his life or his freedom, had brought them to this point.

Hope was like a beacon from a lighthouse, brightly shining in his eyes one moment and hiding on the other side of a cliff the next.

He is a damn fool if he gets his hopes up this time, but it is all he has.

They won't be completely whole again until they have their daughter back in the safety of their makeshift home. And even then, if they get to that point, he's not sure if she will even want to be there.

He never lost hope that she was alive, but he constantly lost hope that she could withstand whatever brutality the Peacekeeper command was throwing down on her and that thought scared the hell out of him. He would have done anything, ANYTHING to stop what he knew was inevitable after all this time.

Hell, he would have thrown himself into the fucking fire to save that little girl with the bright blue eyes, his princess, their daughter.

_The daughter you don't even know._

"Shit…" he whispers as he rubs at his eyes with cool palms attempting to shut off his wandering mind. Aeryn rolls against him and her hand falls square on his chest, shaking him out of the jarring memories. He gently rubs her soft fingers and tries to be thankful for what he hasn't lost instead of being bitter about what he has.

He loves Aeryn more than life, she IS his life. And he loves his boys equally as much, if in a different way.

He would find her this time, _they_ would find her. They would bring her back and they would finally fill the hole that has been lingering with them for seven long cycles.

Finally they could get out of this shadow and he could see the light in his Aeryn's eyes again. He will do this if it kills him. He will do it for her, for Aeryn, for his daughter, for D' and Jack; and for himself. Maybe none of that wormhole garbage, the war and Scorpius, was really his time to be a hero, maybe_ this_ is his time.

John Crichton, protector of this family that he loves more than anything.

John Crichton, husband and father.

John Crichton, human and hero.


	3. Chapter 2: Wait for Daylight

_**Wait for Daylight**_

Soft breathing, regular and rhythmic. A quiet wisp of a touch to her back; is it real? Aeryn gently opens her eyes to take in her surroundings, at the same time attempting to shield them from the unwelcome presence of light. To her surprise, she is just where she had laid herself the previous evening.

_It seems like so long ago._

Like days ago, and it has only been arns.

John had come in to their quarters to finally get a bit of much needed rest at some point during the sleep cycle, but she isn't sure she knows when, or if she had even woke to his presence. All she remembers is a night of fitful sleep and garish dreams that mingled with reality.

Dreams of everything that could go wrong. Dreams spurred by anxiety over the future yet lined with a soft glow of hope that made them almost torturous.

Aeryn Sun isn't prone to worry, but she has forgotten how to turn that switch off sometime over the course of the last several cycles.

She rolls on her side, gently sliding John's hand off of her back so she can get a better view of his face, so peaceful in sleep. He doesn't look his age, always commenting that space is "obviously good for his complexion," but even he has begun to show signs of growing older, the unbearable stress they have faced over the past several cycles working its way to the surface.

Fine lines around his eyes and on his forehead; lines that never used to be present, lingering around his easy smile. His brown hair speckled with several pieces of gray here and there.

She reaches over and softly grazes his face with the back of her fingers, sometimes feeling the need to assure herself that he is really there. She strokes his cheek, up and down, and he gently shifts position. He's still deep in the throws of sleep and she isn't sure how long it's been since he's gotten any.

She, however, can't stay in bed any longer. Her mind is working overtime, processing information, tactics, ways to get in and out without being spotted; without getting hurt, or killed.

She sits up and pulls both hands through long hair, trying to get the dark mane under control before she attempts to crawl across John.

A deep breath and a quick stretch of the back and she is up and over him without even prompting a grunt. She may be getting older but she's still agile and lean, capable of more than she might appear to be. She softly patters to the wash chamber to shower and clean up.

The floor is cool on her feet and she welcomes the change in temperature and the waking effect it brings with it as it slowly travels up her body.

Aeryn quickly shucks off the boxer shorts she has claimed from her husband and the signature black tank that is like a second skin so she can climb under the stream of cool water waiting to finally wash the remnants of sleep from her eyes.

She lets the spray run over her, wash away some of the anxiety and unwelcome fear. Confidence is her ally and she needs it more now than ever, and she has one purpose in her life right now. To be a mother and a wife, a protector, to fight for them. She was never raised for this, never prepared for it, but she is determined to do it to the best of her ability. She owed that to herself, to her people, and to her family. She would make right this wrong that had fallen on them, frell if fate would get the best of Aeryn Sun.

Frenzied thoughts run rampant through her mind.

Tactical maneuvers, strategies and flight plans, holding her daughter next to her chest, her soft skin and sparkling eyes, a little girl; she never had the chance to raise her little girl. Eyes shut, water drumming on her back, she doesn't even notice the presence of someone else in the small room until John has opened the door and she feels the chill sweep over her body.

Luke warm water mixing with cool air, she shivers and the chill mixes with the warmth spreading from inside as she sees John hurry to take off his shorts and open the partition to join her.

"Morning baby…" he mumbles through a yawn. He's still mostly asleep but there are parts of him that are very much awake and the sight of him naked and ready in front of her makes her feel week.

"Good morning…" she whispers back, snaking her arm through his and wrapping it around his back. She greets him with a kiss and pulls him closer under the water. She can't take her eyes off of the muscles in his chest, on his arms; tight skin that is quickly covered with tiny droplets of clear water.

"I have missed you." He quietly brushes past her ear. "Feels like it's been a long time since I've seen you…too long."

She can't help but smile; the years have been nothing if not glue to them. The longer she's with him, the harder it is to be apart for even small amounts of time. And the fact that he brought this up, knowing they had seen each other awake yesterday, even if was early, just cements the fact in her mind. He feels it too.

"I've missed you too, though I haven't missed your mouth," she kids. "Stop talking, John."

Aeryn moves her hands slowly over his chest, brushing the water downwards where her fingers come to rest softly on his hips, pulling him closer. She doesn't need to talk right now, doesn't want to talk. They've done enough talking about plans and strategies over the past 24 arns.

Right now, she just needs him close to her.

_Closer, always closer._

She looks up to his eyes, those frelling blue eyes she never gets tired of looking at. They are full of hunger, need, and laughter. They are full of her.

Aeryn slides her hands up the sides of his chest, slowly, making note of each grove of a rib, teasing skin, under his arms and around his back, where she draws him in for another kiss. Harder this time, tongues dueling and teeth nipping. Breathing faster, she can feel his heat and hardness between them pressing against her stomach already.

She moves her mouth to his biceps, around his shoulders. Teasing and licking off small, cool droplets of water. The taste mingles with the taste of his skin, sweet and salty. She feels him shudder against her as he tightens his grip and pulls her roughly closer. He's ready, but she's not. She needs this to be slow. She needs this time, needs it to last just a little bit longer.

She pushes back, just slightly, far enough to leave him exposed so she can take him in. Desperate to have him close, but even more desperate to make this last. She meets his eyes again, not moving, not talking.

They breathe each other in and hungrily memorize every inch of one another for the millionth time.

She reaches behind her back, never taking here eyes off of him, to grab the cloth and soap. His hair is plastered to his forehead, pink scar glistening on his left temple, and she can't stand another second of distance between them.

She lathers the cloth and begins to wash his chest, his arms. Rubbing slowly, carefully, one hand with the cloth and one hand bare. She moves her bare hand up behind his head to pull his lips down to hers again. Softer kisses, sweeter and more probing. She moves up the side of his face to the scar where she stops for only a microt longer, lingering there with a little more attention as he buries his head in her neck, lips moving, tasting, looking for places unexplored.

His mouth can't seem to get enough of her. His hands are needy and grasping. He's having a hard time holding back now and she knows she's driving him crazy, but she doesn't mind.

"God I love you…" John growls, hands on her chest reclaiming territory that has been his for as long as she can remember. Her nipples throb as he works them over with his hands first, and then his mouth. One after the other, he is everywhere he can possibly be. Hands rough on her back, pressing muscles under skin, rubbing and needing.

Aeryn looks down at the top of his head and kisses his hair softly before bringing it back up level to her own with one finger under his chin. Foreheads touching, lips micro-denches from one another. Time standing still, silence, no sound beyond heavy breathing, drumming hearts, and the rhythmic pounding of water on bare skin.

She finally comes to the point where she needs him inside her like she needs oxygen to survive.

She takes his lips in her own with a hard kiss punctuated with a smack and she firmly grabs his hands and moves them back to her breasts as she moves her own to his hips positioning him where she needs him to be.

He's ready, he can't hold on any longer. He quickly moves his hands to her hips and pulls her towards him lifting her slightly, her back resting on the cool wall, until he feels she's at the perfect position and quickly sheaths himself inside of her. Neither move for a microt, savoring the familiar feel of being one, forehead on forehead. He throbs inside of her, blood racing, and she clenches around him inadvertently.

John drops his head back and groans her name, low and rough gripping her sides even more firmly and begins to move quickly inside of her.

She's hanging on by a thread already and grabs on to his back tighter, nails on skin, her mouth and teeth on his shoulder. She clenches around him in rhythm with his thrusts, louder, longer, faster and before she knows what's happening they go over the edge together, mixed cries, and week knees. He yells her name and she stifles her cries in the crook between his neck and his shoulder.

Breathing in to him, breathing him in.

Sweat and water, staggered breath and the warmth of him inside of her.

She rubs his back slowly, smoothing over the marks she was sure her nails have made as he softly rubs his hands down the back of her wet hair.

They slowly come down together, still joined. One more soft kiss to the lips, to the cheeks, the eyes. Whispered 'I love yous.' Soft, tender strokes on heated skin, breathing becoming more steady and knees becoming less shaky. He wraps his arms around her and she leans into him.

"Baby, you are so much better than coffee; I don't care if it's straight out of Columbia," John laughs into her ear. She knows coffee; she remembers it from the time on Earth. Bitter and foul tasting, she's not sure how he means what he says, but she can tell by the tone of his voice that, in his mind, this is a good thing.

She smiles as he slides out of her, letting the water patter on his bare chest. She bends over to pick up the cloth and soap that she'd lost track of somewhere in the middle of their recreation. He takes full advantage of the opportunity and smacks her softly on the back side.

"I'm hungry, where's my breakfast!" he jokes.

He's in a good mood, thoroughly frelled and ready to find his daughter. She can't help but laugh, drawing from his drive, from his tenderness.

"I believe that the last time I cooked you breakfast, you spent the next five arns complaining of a stomach ache like a child. Wait, on second thought, I take that back; even our children complain less than you did on that day," she laughs as she washes her arms and shoulders with the rough cloth.

"That's just because they're scared of you, woman! You should hear them complain behind your back," he ribs with a mock serious tone. She laughs as she hands him the cloth so he can use it and she can wash her hair.

"We should tell them what's going on." she states with hesitation after a quiet pause, changing the light tone to a more serious one. "They deserve to know, especially D'Argo. He's old enough to be involved now."

John's scrubbing his stomach and rinsing his hair at the same time. Light hitting his face, his eyes sparkle under the water, defiance brimming beneath the surface as he picks up on the meaning behind her words.

"He's not a soldier, Aeryn; we didn't raise him to be a soldier. He's had hardly any training. He's not coming with us." His tone is firm, adamant. But she doesn't shy away from the challenge.

"He's a better shot than you are half the time." She chides, anger burning coolly behind her eyes. She's ready for this fight, if it goes that direction.

"Hey, I have gotten_ so_ much better," he rubs his chin, turning off the water and grabbing a drying cloth to wrap around her body and another for her hair, finally one for himself.

"He doesn't have to carry a pulse pistol John, but he could help. He's fast and he knows what he's looking for. He's been trained on tactical situations."

"But he's never been in one," he cuts her off. "Do you realize what you're saying?"

"If I recall, you had never been in one until you landed in the middle of space, space which you were _totally_ unfamiliar with," she backfires. "He's been raised around this. We've studied it. He knows Peacekeeper military strategy almost as well as I do. He would be an asset to us, John, increase our chances tenfold. We also need someone ready and waiting in the transport pod to get us the frell away from the planet if things go badly; even if they go good."

"It would also increase our chances of losing another one of our children," he states looking down.

_So this is what it is about._

"It's not your fault." she says reaching out and stroking his cheek. "D'Argo is a man now. It's time he was put in situations where he learned how to live outside of the confines of what we have here on Moya and the small villages we stop in."

Aeryn's right and he knows it. The boy turned 16 four months ago. He would be leaving them soon, and needed to know how to defend himself in a real situation; away from them. It was a crazy universe and no one was more familiar with being thrust into it head first and naked than he was. He didn't want to turn around one day and find his son in that same situation.

"We'll go over everything with him, every little detail, there won't be any surprises," she states softly. "We need his help, John. We need all the help we can get. This is it."

He knows she's right, but accepting the fact that he might let his son walk out into a situation like the one they'll be in is somewhat unnerving to him. D' _is _a man now, they can't shelter him forever. Something she knows John feels like he needs to do with these kids on occasion when his mind wanders back to some of the horrible things he's been through and seen since he found himself here.

"He's an adult, we'll tell him and we'll let _him_ decide," Aeryn states calmly, which brings a nod from John.

He smiles at her, kissing her nose and she knows that she's found a temporary solution, a neutral ground, that he'll be okay with for the time being.

D'Argo is growing up, and sheltering him from the harshness of the universe isn't an option to her. He needs to learn how to fend for himself in any situation, and this would be their first chance to show him that there is always the possibility for things to go very badly, very quickly.

She watches her husband's back as he steps out of the small alcove into their quarters, pulls out fresh shorts, and steps into them one foot at a time. Several drops of water still linger on his back. She moves from her perch in the door frame and walks up behind him, rubbing his back, wiping away the few remaining drops and kissing his shoulder. He straightens to his full height and turns to pull her in.

"I love you, you know that," she says, more a statement than a question.

"I love you; more than anything," He kisses her softly, slowly, before pulling his black shirt over his head, a task that she helps complete.

"I'm gonna talk to Pilot, see if we're in range to contact Jothee. Time to get this show on the road before we think too much. Before _I_ think too much," He rubs his hand roughly through his hair several times, and she feels the small droplets of moisture hit her face as his hair falls into its normal position. A quick kiss on the lips and he is out the door before she can wrap a thought around half of what's just happened. An arn into the morning and she already feels like they've been awake for days.

She turns around and towels her wet hair, trying to squeeze the remaining water loose from the long tendrils before she pulls an undershirt over her head. She runs the drying brush through her hair several times, trying to calm the curls that tend to show themselves when she's in a hurry, overly warm, or her hair is not quite dry, and within several more microts she's heading out of their quarters as well. Prepared to embark on this journey again.

* * *

Aeryn starts down the corridor, breathing in the cool air of early morning and mentally preparing to talk to her son about the situation that has unfolded in the past 24 arns.

She's apprehensive of his reaction; it has been so long since they've run this race. She hopes that he still carries the same steely resolve to protect his sister that he had all those cycles ago as a small boy. She knows that, if he does, they will be able to pull this off somehow. John, her, and D'argo together will be a force to be reckoned with when it comes to this girl.

She makes her way down the corridor to her son's quarters, quietly palming the door pad when she arrives at her destination. It's still early, and the only sounds she hears on the massive ship are the whirring of some DRD's and the quite lull of engine hum. The room is dark and she slowly raises the light level, just high enough to keep her from colliding with something. D'Argo is already up and out of the room, probably already at the exercise bay.

When he turned 12, he had realized that girls didn't have some sort of incurable disease, but he still didn't particularly like them. At 14, he decided that maybe they weren't so bad after all; at least to look at. And now at 16, the thought of his latest planet side female prospects never left his mind for long and he is usually up as early as possible trying to put some meat on his lean muscles. He is tall and slowly developing a frame very similar to his father's. He wouldn't have to work hard to become equally as strong, if not more so.

Jack on the other hand, is still curled into the corner of his bunk, stuffed toy clutched in one arm and the other thrown haphazardly above his small head. His blonde hair is wild and sheets are strewn across the bed.

The small DRD is sitting motionless at the foot of his bunk as it always does during the sleep cycle, when they can get the child to sleep, that is. He has more energy than he knows what to do with. She has no idea where the unending supply comes from, but it is invigorating to her in a way that she never imagined it could be.

She sits gently on the edge of the boys' bed, straightening the sheets and she rests an arm over his body, hand settling on his other side so she's at the perfect position to brush his messy hair out of his eyes and whisper a quiet good morning in his ear. He barely stirs, small fists rubbing at his eyes, rolling reluctantly over to face her.

"Well, look who decided to join the land of the living today," she kids, mussing his hair a bit more.

Jack is not awake enough to speak, but in the times that they're alone she still gets to enjoy him as her baby boy. He's not concerned about his brother or his father seeing him cling to his mother and he is lax with his feelings and his affection. She relishes those times. He lifts his head and rests it on her lap, and she kisses him softly.

"Time to get up. Go help Gran with breakfast and then we need to go over your lessons for the day," she says, still in a quiet voice as to not shake him too harshly out of his slumber.

He groans quietly, curling tightly, stretching tired muscles and little limbs. She grasps him under his arms and lifts him to a sitting position and he leans into her hugging tightly to her chest.

"Come on Mom, can't I work on my model today? I did a lot of work yesterday; and besides I learn more when I work by myself." This is her son, constantly trying to get out of his lessons so he can focus on something that seems more interesting to him.

"Not today, Jack; I let you out of a day last weeken and look where it got us," she chides remembering the mess that she and John were left to clean up when he decided he needed some real fuel for one of his models. He had a good scolding that day, spending the rest of it on his bed with no toys and no holographic games. They however, spent the next 4 arns smelling of fuel and flight, cleaning up a mess that was worthy of an entire flight squadron, not a 7 cycle old child.

"Up you go. Come on," He slowly makes his way out of his warm cocoon of pillows and sheets, and she gently pats his back side as he stands.

"Go wash your face and grab a dentic. I WILL check your mouth later; don't think for a microt that I won't," she states. Her youngest son is notorious for his dislike of hygiene. It remains a constant effort to get him in a bath, in fresh clothing, or to clean his mouth.

He wanders to the wash room connected to the quarters, and she is so proud of her little boy as he stumbles away from her. Still a somewhat new feeling that had arrived with the birth of her children and her relationship with John, she's not quite sure how to process it. He has blond hair and deep, gray eyes full of mischief. He's tall for his age, yet still barely taller than her hip, and he fumbles with lanky limbs. His body is growing, but it can't figure out if it wants to go about it proportionately or not.

Aeryn stands with a deep breath, taking in her sons' quarters, the eldest keeping his half neat and orderly, as the youngests' is scattered with toys and module parts, drawings and books.

Motherhood is a mystery to her still. How can they have two children who are so incredibly different, yet both springing from her and John? She picks up a drawing, a picture of a ship; she thinks must be Moya, drawn as neatly as possibly with seven cycle old hands. She sees four figures that she assumes represent her family and feels a tug at her chest that he'll possibly be drawing the picture again, with five figures instead of just four. The way it should have been from the beginning.

* * *

"_Who I am hates who I've been"_

A half an arn later and she has her youngest son dressed, fed, and well on his way to being thoroughly frelling bored with his lesson.

Aeryn leaves him in the mess quarters with Noranti so she can find D'Argo and ask him the question that is weighing heavily on her mind.

John's as well. She doesn't need words from his mouth to know the thought of D' coming along on this bit of personal recon shakes the very foundation of his feelings towards his children and fatherhood. She can't deny the fact that, as much as she never expected it; as much is it goes against everything she was raised to believe, she shares a sense of his hesitation.

D'Argo is her baby; he is her first, the first child to show her that she was capable of being more than a soldier or a breeding machine devoid of feelings. The first child to show her what it felt like to be a mother loving her baby, a part of her.

She feels confused, confused and angry. An anger she hasn't felt for a long time, one that she knows she doesn't really mean, yet a flame that burns deep in her heart.

A flame that rages at rare times, something she can't control.

_Frelling human emotions taking over when they shouldn't even be an issue._

She can feel the flush warming her face. None of this would even be happening to her if it weren't for John. She wouldn't be struggling with these feelings of love, wouldn't be struggling with making this life work. She would be a soldier, a pilot, and everything would make sense. It wouldn't be this frelling pile of dren that she has no way, no real sense of navigating around. If he had never come stumbling into her life, she would be in control of her destiny and it sure as hezmana wouldn't have turned out like this.

Aeryn Sun, Peacekeeper Soldier, wouldn't have any emotional ties. She would have played it safe, stayed on the straight and narrow moving her way up until she was the best damn PK prowler pilot on detail.

She stops in the middle of the corridor she's navigating and leans against a bulkhead feeling week as she realizes the thoughts that are spinning through her mind. Thoughts that she hasn't drudged up for cycles.

Guilt, the feelings are compounded with guilt.

She loves John more than life itself. She wouldn't give up even one microt of their time together, and can't imagine going on without him. She loves her children more than anything in the universe. She can't imagine recreation without that deep love and connection any more.

She can't imagine recreating for the purpose of making a life that you would _never_ be involved with, never see grow or lose a tooth, smile and laugh, take a first step or fall and scrape a knee. Can't imagine bringing a life into the universe and never getting to see who that person would grow to become, never having the chance to protect them or show them how to point a pulse pistol knowing that you were showing them how to survive. It had become more than just an act now, more than just a release, and she couldn't go back to feeling the way she had before.

Aeryn sighs as she carelessly rubs her forehead. She can't imagine her life without her sons and her husband. And she's angry again, angry at herself now, for even letting those long buried thoughts claw their way to the surface. She roughly pulls her hair back in a tie and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes from the harsh golden light of the corridor, determination renewed.

This is her life, this is who she has chosen to become, and she loves this life and her family.

_Frell_ the way things were before, none of it matters now. She will see her daughter grow into a woman.

She has become more than what she _was_, and she will be the best at what she _is_.

Before she can focus on the rest of this task though, she needs to speak with her son. She needs to know if he is ready. Ready and willing to be their ally in this battle, if it comes to that.

The first battle he will face in his life, though she knows it won't be the last. And at least if it _does_ come to that this time around, she and John will be there with him and he won't be out there in the universe somewhere alone.


	4. Chapter 3: Time for Change

_**Time for Change**_

John picks up a pencil, and draws a straight line between the course he's plotting and the easiest way in and out.

_The easiest way; definitely won't be the safest way. Not this time._

He plays the scenario over and over in his mind, conjuring up every possible thing that can and probably will go wrong, though he knows he is barely scraping the surface.

It seems every time he tries to do that, space would throw a new set of obstacles his way, obstacles he would never have imagined in a thousand years at home.

_It's like fucking _American Gladiators_ on Speed and you're always the little guy who gets his ass kicked by Nitro._

Safety first, speed second this time; there are no two ways about it. He will save is daughter, but not in the process of risking or losing something else, not now. They have come too far and been through too much to jeopardize what they have. He will replay this course over and over in his mind until he has it memorized and can navigate the path with his eyes closed. Though he won't actually close his eyes- might be a fun challenge in the future - but this time he'll be going in twenty-twenty.

John turns from the table he's resting his elbows on in Command and looks out the large viewing area in front of him, space glowing purple and orange, stars and planets for as far as he can see. They are moving in the right direction, closer now with every arn. His daughter is out there on one of those planets.

"Commander, we will be in prime location for long range communication with Jothee in roughly 340 microts," Pilot states coolly from the clamshell.

He's been waiting for this all morning. One Starburst plotted through some unfamiliar space and several more arns of moving at peak speed, Moya pushing as hard as she could, and they are going to be in range so soon. Things are going good, so far, almost too good. Things rarely went this well for him, in fact, and he starts to wonder if maybe he shouldn't purposely wish something to go wrong just to spare them from it happening later on.

"Thanks Pilot," he states preoccupied. "Will you let me know as soon as we're in range?"

"Yes Commander, should I notify Officer Sun?" Typical Pilot; all business, no corner left unchecked.

"Please, I want her to be here when we actually have Jothee on the two-way."

John feels lightheaded. His heart seems to be beating overtime and he's not sure whether to be hopeful, apprehensive, or hell - just plain mad at this point. He tries to bite down his anger at having to put them all through this situation again when it should never have happened in the first place. To hell with the Peacekeepers; what did he ever do to them anyways? It is his turn to damn the consequences and do what needed to be done to make his family whole again.

He looks back down at his chart and takes stock of the area. It's familiar, yet foreign. Like someplace he's traversed at some point before, while at the same time, totally unfamiliar. Space, would it ever be home?

_Take a right at the red star and a left at planet A to get to your neighborhood, John._

He laughs softly to himself, proud of his infallible sense of humor; always spot on with a good joke and inhales a deep breath of air, filling his lungs to capacity.

John leans back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, and tries to picture what his daughter will look like after all of these cycles.

--

Aeryn leans against the outer door frame of the exercise bay, watching her son brawl with a large, red punching bag. Her "little" D'Argo is tall; all arms and legs, and the punching bag definitely seems to be losing at this point.

His dark hair is matted to his forehead, the front of his black shirt wet with sweat.

One quick right and a left uppercut, and he decides that the punching bag has had enough for the time being. He leans down, attempting to catch his breath, resting his gloved hands on his knees.

She smiles softly, finding it hard to believe that this is her baby. A quick palm across the door pad and the panel whirs open. Her son's eyes come up to meet her; watching her walk into the room with an air of determination.

"Hey Ma, wanna join me for a bit? I could use the company," D'Argo says, never one to turn down conversation or companionship, always the social butterfly. Her son has never met a stranger.

_He obviously gets that from his father._

"Actually," She starts tentatively. Does she want to breach this subject without John? Now is as good a time as ever and, besides, his head is wrapped up in calculations and maps right now. "I came to ask you a question. But I don't suppose it would hurt to get a little work out in."

D'Argo laughs, standing upright. "You never could turn down a good chance to show me that you can still kick my ass, even if I _am_ taller than you now," he jabs at her, playfully tapping her upper arm with his red gloved hand.

Before he even has a chance to react, she has his hand in both of hers, quickly wrapping his arm into a painful position behind his back.

"Hmm, you didn't see that coming now did you oh tall one?" Aeryn smiles, easing up on his arm and handing him the drying cloth she picked up on the way in to the chamber.

He quickly makes use of the soft cloth, wiping at his forehead and arms, after shaking off the pain from her grip. "One of these days Ma, just wait, I'll outwit you and you won't know what hit you," he pauses, stepping lightly with his ribbing. "It won't be me though; I would never hit a girl." He finally says laughing

"Well, I wouldn't hesitate to hit a boy," she replies, with a sharp right hook to the punching bag.

"Yeah, well I hope I'm not ever on the receiving end of that threat," D'Argo says grabbing the bag to steady it's swinging.

"Not a chance" she says her hands cupping both of his cheeks giving him a swift kiss on the forehead. "Your father on the other hand, now that might not be such a bad idea," She says smiling.

She and D'Argo had always had a close relationship, full of affection and laughter most of the time. He had been his mothers boy from the get go. They went through a rough period for about 3 cycles, from the time her son was 12 cycles old until he reached 15 or so. D'Argo was much more concerned about showing off to his friends or his father, than he was about receiving or giving affection to his mother. Such a normal reaction, especially to her having never known a relationship like the one she had with this family.

Still, when the phase passed and D'Argo became surer of himself and the man he was becoming, their relationship quickly regained much of what he had shut off, and she couldn't deny that she was relieved. Aeryn had missed him. Missed their talks and missed hearing about what was going on in his life. She had taught him to speak fluent Sebacean from the time he was just learning to talk, something she wanted her children to know, one thing from her past that she felt she could pass on to them.

The translator microbes made this a somewhat unnecessary task. Since Aeryn learned English quickly; her and John tended to speak his native tongue, and their children naturally picked it up.

She, however, wanted them to know something of her heritage as well, even if she kept the Peacekeeper aspect of her past mostly on the backburner. D'Argo had taken to the flow of the language immediately and it became a special connection for them. They would speak in Sebacean to each other most of the time when they were alone. It wasn't that John minded, seeing how he had become fluent in it as well, this was just something special for the two of them. The language became a strong bond representing much more than just words.

"What's going on Ma," he asks, not feeling a need to beat around a bush. "Something you want to tell me?"

Sometimes, seeing the human side of emotion and emotional perception in her children is still jarring to her. She has grown used to it from John, who could read her without a word spoken between them, but seeing that her children know her as well as he is something she is still learning to deal with. Emotions were foreign to her before she met John; they were a weakness and she still feels like she needs a different kind of translator to understand them half the time.

"Yes, actually, there's something that your father and I wanted to ask you. But first, there's something I need you to know about," she says, strapping on her own pair of red gloves. A quick right jab and a left upper cut to the bag and she's ready to lay this out before him, gauge his reaction, and let him decide whether or not he feels ready to take this step.

She swiftly places a high kick and a left backhand to the other side of the bag. Her son sits down on an exercise bench, watching her moves pointedly, and Aeryn tries to gauge some kind of reaction from him before she plows ahead.

_No sense in shying away from the inevitable now._

Heavy breathing.

Tense nerves.

"We think we may have..._probably_ have, located your sister." Hard smack to the bag with a left jab followed quickly by a right.

D'Argo's attention is fully on her now, frell the punching bag. He leans forward on the bench to get a clear view of her on the other side.

"What?" He questions.

"Your father received a data transmission from Jothee yesterday. He's planet side with a Luxan platoon looking for escaped war prisoners and they came across a Peacekeeper training squad, a cadet training squad. It didn't take much in the way of overhearing for him to realize that Taly was in the unit. He sent the data chip out to notify us right away." Her heart is beating faster just talking about the information that she knows is certain.

"And you're just now telling me this? I'm old enough; don't you think I had a right to know?" D'Argo stands up, facing her, strong willed defiance in his gray eyes.

_Damn genetics. _

She doesn't know how to handle this coming at her from the other side of the fence.

"Yes, D'Argo, you do have a right to know, that's why I'm telling you now. It wasn't a matter of intentionally keeping something from you, it's just that, well we've been here before and we weren't sure what we were going to do; it's only been a day since we found out ourselves. It's been so long, it took arns for it to even sink through our heads that this could possibly be happening again." She's stumbling over her words slightly now. It comes out quickly, a jumbled mess.

_Do you even hear yourself talking? What the frell are you saying?_

"Weren't sure what you were going to do? Were you just going to leave without even taking a chance? Just leave her out there? What the frell are you thinking?" He's angry now, upset, his biting temper reminiscent of her own.

She places a soft hand on his shoulder pushing him back down on the bench.

"What the frell are we thinking? Let's see, we're thinking of a way to save your sister without putting everyone else in danger, that's what we're thinking." Her eyes are locked on his, neither willing to break contact and lose the challenge.

"Take a deep breath and calm down. I didn't come here to tell you about this to upset you. I know how you feel about the situation. It hits you just as closely as it does your father and me. I came because we will need your help. We want your help…_I_ want your help," Her eyes search his face for a telling hint of what is going on inside.

He's looking down, but that doesn't prevent her from seeing a tear slip slowly down his face. She kneels in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

"I know. I know this is hard to deal with again. Trust me when I tell you that I know. But this time is different D'Argo, this time _we_ have the advantage." She takes a breath, wiping the tear with her thumb. "You're a man now. You've been well trained and well taught, you're a fighter, and you know how to handle a pulse pistol and the transport pod. This is your decision, D'Argo, but I am asking you for your help. Your father is asking for your help. If you think you're ready."

His eyes meet hers, and he holds her gaze. "You want my help?"

"Yes, we need you." It comes from deep within her, and she means it. "She's your sister, she needs you too. Who do we have if we don't have each other? What do you say?" she asks, managing a meager smile.

He looks at her, a small smirk breaking out on his lips. "Wow, I never thought I'd hear those words come out of my mother's mouth. 'I need your help…' I have to say, I'm a little speechless."

She looks up at him, mock anger, and grabs his chin.

"Not speechless enough, apparently. Don't expect to hear it again young man." She runs the back of her hand down his cheek, smiling. "I'm not going to tell you that there won't be fighting involved, violence possibly. It will be hard, and it will be hot, and I'm not even sure how your sister will react when…_if_…we find her. The bottom line is, I don't know what will happen, and if the past experiences are any indicator; it might not end the way we hope it will."

"No 'ifs' Ma. We'll find her," He's serious, positive, just like his father. "I'm ready to do this. I need to do this, I need to help. I owe it to her, and to you and Dad."

"You don't owe us anything. Though your help will mean more than you can imagine"

"Officer Sun," Pilot interrupts over the comms.

She stands, kissing her son on the forehead on the way to her full height. "Yes, Pilot?"

"Commander Crichton has requested that you join him in Command. We will be in communicating range with Jothee in a matter of microts," D'Argo looks up at her expectantly, questions and a hint of surprise in his eyes which she reads easily.

"Won't be long now, we're close already." She says looking down at him. "I'm on my way Pilot. Thank you."

Aeryn touches her son's shoulder, a mark of reassurance, confidence in his abilities to prove himself to her. He squeezes her fingers knowingly. His hands are much larger than hers now and he takes her hand into his fist easily.

"I'm going to catch up with your father, see if we can't make more sense of this before we plan anything further. Go clean up and check on your brother for me. I'd like to say I trust that he's working diligently on his lesson, but I think we both know him well enough to know that more than likely isn't the case," She winks at him.

"Yeah, sure okay. I'll keep him in line." The boy laughs.

D'Argo stands up before her, now several denches taller and easily wider. She brushes his hair out of his eyes as she spins to walk toward the door panel, turning quickly as she palms the door pad.

"Thank you," It's a simple statement that she speaks to him. A simple statement that says so many things between the lines, unspoken truths and declarations. She's letting go, and he's accepting this challenge to be a man. She's releasing her baby, and he's taking flight on his own.

It's a bittersweet feeling, this form of separation, and she can't push pack the twang of sadness that radiates from her insides. Wasn't it just several cycles ago that they were teaching him to walk, she was teaching him how to handle a prowler clutch, watching him wrestle with his father easily thrown over John's shoulders towards the stars? She is letting go of one of her children in the hopes of bringing back another.

Motherhood is more complicated than anything she could have dreamed of facing as a Peacekeeper soldier.

_Where is the training for this?_

--

**_(Present)_**

She sits on the edge of the soft blanket resting over the sleeping girl. Finally, after arns of silence, barely touched food, angry looks, and a resistance to talk or cooperate; they had resorted to another lighter dose of tranquilizing powder mixed up by Noranti in order to look her over, make sure she is okay- to get her to rest.

"Oh, it will just make her sleep for an arn or so. No harm done, she'll wake as good as new." the old woman had rattled on, ever confident in her abilities as the wise medicine woman.

Three arns later the child is still sleeping like she has never heard the word. Regular breathing, back slowly moving up and down, rising with the influx of air to her lungs.

Aeryn rests her hand on her daughters back, rubbing up and down, side to side. Trying to comfort her through the sleep, relishing the first calm contact she has had with the girl in over 7 cycles. Trying to make up for the time apart, trying to convince herself that Taly is really here, in her bed, under her touch, safe.

The lights are dim and the air blows cool on her face, her earlier panic induced heat replaced by the chill of night air coursing through the vents and a mixture of her own nervous anticipation.

She looks at her daughter's small form, right arm at her side resisting the confines of the blanket, her left hand resting under her head, loose tendrils of hair spilling on the pale skin.

Scars, pink and raised, and bruises are evident over several areas on both arms.

Evidence of weeks of training perhaps?

Bitingly real tactical maneuvers?

_Or something else, something more brutal? _

She is not blind to the people that had raised her, the people that have inadvertently raised her daughter. And she is not blind to the hatred and prejudice these people felt towards her and John. This thought, along with the knowledge of their trained actions and ideas, their incapacity for feeling, leave her mind reeling as to what could have been happening to her daughter over this long course of time.

_Too long. _

Aeryn knew why they wanted her, knew why these people had taken her child. When would the ever learn that the knowledge John possessed was completely gone, useless, let alone passed down to their children? When would they leave her family the frell alone and find something else to fight for, to fight over?

She rubs her finger over two pink, raised scars on Taly's lower arm. Not recent, they must have come from deep cuts, never fully or properly healed. She takes full advantage of the child's unconscious peace, kissing her hair for the first time since they had brought her back on board Moya. She rests her lips on Taly's head, breathing in her daughter, trying to remember the feel of her, but she can't.

She turns and leans forward facing the empty side of the room, elbows resting on her knees, letting her hair hang down in front of her face; blocking the presence of anyone outside of the solitary, dark confines.

She suddenly feels a rustling behind her, movement on the bed and a shifting of covers. The girl sits up startled, well aware of the presence at her side and Aeryn stands quickly. She's been caught, and she doesn't have a clue what to say to her daughter. Surely a "good morning" wouldn't be the appropriate response considering the angry glare that is boring through her, her daughter's blue eyes burning.

"What are you doing in here? What do you want?" the girl asks. She's not calm, though she's not harsh either. Aeryn can't tell if the latter is due to the fact that she's still suffering the after effects of Noranti's powder, or if perhaps she's really accepting the fact that this is where she belongs.

"I'm sorry…I, I was just making sure that you were okay. I didn't mean to wake you," Aeryn fumbles uncharacteristically.

"Making sure I'm okay? You must be frelling joking! Of course I'm not frelling okay," the girl spits. She's up and out of the bed in a flash, briefly stumbling backward, her body reeling from the shock of sudden movement mixed with the lingering effects of the powder she has inhaled. Aeryn reaches out to grab her arm and steady her, a natural reaction. But the girl pushes her hand away as she gathers her balance. "What do you expect?"

"We'll wait until your calm, and then we can talk about this; talk about what ever you want to talk about," Aeryn offers stern but caring. She's desperate for a way in, but she's not willing to listen to her child talk to her with such a tone. She holds her ground and doesn't move her gaze from Taly's eyes. This girl will realize what they had done to get her back, what they had been through without her, and who she is.

"Don't bother. I don't have anything to say to you, or him." She turns her back and sits down hard on the bed, one leg folded up under her back side, arms crossed defiantly over her chest. She silently faces the wall for several microts, still noticing her mother's unwelcome presence. "Why are you still here?"

Aeryn sighs and turns to leave, but not before she can speak her peace. "We are doing this for you, you know? Because you're our child, because we love you. I know you don't understand that right now, but it's true."

The girl chuckles roughly under her breath, scoffing at the concept of the foreign word.

"Are you hungry, cold?" her questions are met with silence, her daughter focusing on something far more interesting and less hated on the wall.

Aeryn turns to go, hand quickly over the door pad waiting for the whir of the panel to take her out of her child's angry presence. She stops outside the entrance and leans against the wall of the corridor feeling weak. She closes her eyes and takes a deep, shaky breath. Why is this so hard for her?

This _was_ her.

This is who she had been, this very person. Why couldn't she relate to this little Peacekeeper soldier? This reunion was obviously going to be harder than even she had thought, and she hadn't for one frelling microt thought it was going to be easy.


	5. Chapter 4: A Man Will Rise

_**A Man Will Rise**_

**(Back to the Past)**

John is nestled beneath the hull of Aeryn's Prowler, looking for something; he's just not exactly sure what.

_Something's frelled…something's not right._

"Damn it's dark down here. Where the hell did I leave that flashlight?" He searches around with one hand in the dark; feeling up the floor clumsily as if it were his tenth grade girlfriend. He's sure it's around here somewhere, just a little bit further. He stretches his arm as far as he can when he feels the light gently placed in his hand.

"Looking for something?" his son questions good naturedly.

John peaks his head out from under the belly of the Prowler, to look straight up into D'Argo's face as he kneels at the edge of the ship.

"D', I knew I raised you well. You know right when to make an entrance." he laughs, voice muffled by the wrench clasped between his lips. "That'll come in handy with the ladies. You're obviously learning from your old man."

D'Argo laughs, sliding under the ship behind John.

"What are we looking for down here Dad?" he asks, hands on the underside of the Prowler feeling around for anything that might be out of place.

"Not sure yet. She's not running like she should. I know there's something out of whack. I just haven't found it yet," John mumbles as he quickly turns at a gear shaft on the rear of the drive belts.

"Why the Prowler? Is mom taking it out?" D' questions, a knowing tone in his voice.

John slides from under the ship, dragging his son out behind him by the leg. D' is baiting him and he knows it all too well.

"You talked to your mom?" John is serious now. His son looks down, breaking eye contact for just a microt, long enough for John to know that Aeryn has already confronted him about Taly.

_She talked to him without me, fuck it all. _

D'Argo looks up as he mindlessly plays with another wrench he's found on the floor. "Yeah, she talked to me earlier. Told me about the data chip from Jothee; I know what you're doing and I'm coming Dad." It's a statement, not a hint of question in his voice, merely determination and information.

_Hard headed boy, just like his mother._

John smiles ironically, resting his thumb on his lower lip, a telling gesture D'Argo immediately recognizes as frustration or deep thought and he's pretty sure it's not the latter.

"She asked you to come? Did she ASK you D'Argo? Did she tell you what we'd be heading into to try and bring your sister back?" His voice is stern, full of underlying emotion. "This is your choice; you're old enough to decide this for yourself. But no one is forcing you to come. No one will think any less of you if you stay. Not your mother and not me."

D'Argo rests a hand on John's arm. "She asked me Dad. She asked me and I said I wanted to do this, I need to do this. She's my sister, and you're my parents and you're not going down there without me."

John smiles and can't help but laugh lightly. "Damn boy, has your mom been showing you video tapes of me when I was your age or something? I'm pretty sure I said that exact same phrase to my dad back in the day, except I think when I said it, it probably had something to do with spring break or a subject equally as life changing."

"Spreengbreak?" his son asks, confusion clouding his face.

"Just a vacation, a holiday back on Earth. Lots of barely dressed girls, sun, and the ocean," he winks at his son who flushes red in the cheeks, a reaction John knows he can pull out of the boy with the mere mention of a female.

"I'd like to go there," D' sighs, all serious, his mind on some girl that he left at his last school, John is sure of that and he can't help but chuckle at the predictable reaction.

"Someday, someday I'll get you there D'."

A deep, nervous breath rattles his chest. Is he actually letting this happen? This boy is sixteen, he's not a man. Sometimes it's hard for John to remember that D' has grown up out here, immersed in this life, not with his head full of comic books and movies, football and pizza like his own years growing up were spent.

"I know how you feel about this D', and we can use your help." John looks down and can't believe he just let those fucking words come out of his mouth. He fights back the quick wave of nausea that struggles to make itself known.

"I know you don't think I can do this dad, I know you don't think I can help, but I can. I want to and I can." His son says with a mixture of hurt and determination. D'Argo is so much like his mother, his dark hair and stoic face, strong features and a confident walk. John can't help but want to protect him in the same way that he does her, all of them, they are all part of her and if he has one purpose in his life after all of this. It is to keep her safe; to keep them safe.

"No, you're right D'. I don't think you can do this." John sighs, watching his son's face fall, his head down, and they sit silently for several microts. "I _know_ you can do this. Look at me buddy," He continues drawing D'Argo's attention back to his face. "I'm proud of you and there is no doubt in my mind that you're ready for this."

There's that light in those blue eyes, the one he temporarily dimmed. John stands and reaches a hand out to pull D'Argo up with him; quickly dragging him into a tight hug. A "guy" hug that is, thick and secure, with a few pats on the back for good measure.

_Let him go, let him be a man._

"Your mom and I talked to Jothee earlier, we're really close now D'." John states, trying to prepare his son for how soon they'll be in the middle of this, something much bigger than him, than his world up to this point.

"We're going to take the Prowler down to the planet and meet up with Jothee and his camp, but we can't drag them into this. I've already brought too much unwanted trouble on other people over time, and the fewer we are, the less noticeable we'll be. I'll take us in, you'll take us out. That means I need you ready in the Prowler to get us the hell off that planet as soon as you can. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, but I'm not just going to sit in the frelling Prowler and wait for you to get back Dad!" He's determined to prove himself to his father.

"No, no way. It's like your mom says; you're a better shot than me most of the time anyways, though I'm getting better," D' chuckles lightly. He's seen him in action and he must know that this is a sore spot between his parents. "I mean, at least I can graze the broad side of a barn now."

"I have no idea what you're talking about but something tells me the barn shouldn't be too worried; whatever it is," D'Argo teases prompting a quick, muscular arm around the neck and a mock choke hold from John.

"We'll see," John replies standing his son up straight before him. "This is serious stuff D'. I know you know this, but I need you to be ready. Go check your holster and make sure that your pulse pistol is dug out, cleaned, and the cartridges are full. Don't want to be caught in a pinch in a situation like we could possibly find ourselves in. Gotta make sure we cover all of the bases."

- -

This is a side of his father he's seen, but he's not used to. Worry clouds John's eyes and his grasp on D's arm is tight at the least. It's like he's trying to let go, but the overwhelming emotion is just causing a gut reaction to hold on tighter. D'Argo feels, for the first time, that he is the grounding rod for his parents.

Like he's the only one who can hold things together.

Like it's his responsibility to keep them strong and ready.

A task that he would have never seen coming, especially from his mother and father. They were his life, his heroes, and his protectors.

He will be ready. He will do this. It is his time to protect if he needs to, and he won't let them down.

- -

"_A man will rise, a man will fall  
From the sheer face of love, like a fly from the wall" _

It's late, quiet and late.

There is no sound to be heard except the usual shifting and groans that accompany life on a Leviathan.

John has become as used to them as he was to the cycles of the air conditioner, the refrigerator, or the sound of birds outside the window at home. He feels that sudden hollowness of being homesick that seems to come less and less often these days. He has everything he has ever wanted, everything he could possibly ask for, but every once in a while he remembers how much he misses his home.

_Dammit John._

The ocean, the green grass, his sister and dad, the smell of bacon and coffee in the morning, the pick up game of football with his buddies. He still misses Earth. He drums his fingers on the hard surface of the table, attempting to find an outlet for his frustration, for the nervous energy coursing through his veins.

_Christmas, Thanksgiving, Summer, and Fall. _

He quickly grows bored with the monotonous activity though. He grabs a random piece of paper with his earlier notes scribbled on it and begins to doodle. His doodling quickly takes the shape of a poorly drawn house, surrounded by trees, a car in the front yard, a normal life, the past.

He hears the door panel swing open behind him and knows Aeryn has vacated her perch in Pilot's den for the time being. She has to be tired; she's been there for arns.

John doesn't bother to look up, or turn around to let her know that he senses her presence. He's still a bit angry, a little bit hurt, that she went ahead and confronted D' without him. Something he had assumed they would do together she had taken upon herself without even telling him what her plans were. He feels her hands splay on his upper back, massaging tense muscles and his tired neck.

"I didn't think I'd find you here already," Aeryn states with a weary voice. It had been a long two days since they'd gotten this news that had the ability to change their lives…again.

"I can't think," he mumbles, looking up at the wall and not attempting to hide his frustration. Something she immediately picks up on.

"What's this?" Aeryn asks picking up the corner of his drawing and taking a closer look.

"It's nothing; I was just doodling, trying to clear my head a bit, that's all." He doesn't want to talk to her about it, about home, not now.

"It doesn't look like 'nothing' to me." Aeryn sets his paper back down and takes the seat on his other side, resting her hand on his forearm. "What's the matter John? And don't tell me you're just apprehensive about what we're about to do. I know it's more than that."

He sighs with a deep breath, nerves on edge. "Why did you talk to him without me? I thought we were going to do it together, or hell, that you would at least talk to me about it first Aeryn and you went and asked him, or _told_ him maybe, on your own."

_What the hell else would it be about?_

She gently strokes his forearm, playing with several of the dark hairs that rest there. "First off, he was exercising and I just happened upon him this morning. Things are moving so fast, I figured, if we were going to give him time to decide this on his own, we needed to tell him as soon as we could. So I did. Second off," she starts, pulling the small tuft of hair she has found hard enough to emphasize her point and make him wince, flinching back.

"I didn't _tell_ him John. I asked him. It was an agreement and I did exactly what you would have done in the situation."

John knows this is true, knows her well enough by now. Come to think about it, he's not really sure why he's angry after all. He does know he's not ready to let this drop though; he's too tired and unsettled to drop it.

"You still could have told me Aeryn, I mean…I wanted to be there, I needed to be there. I felt like I did at least. I'm his dad." He props his heavy head up with his hand and looks her in the eyes for the first time since she sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it meant that much to you," Aeryn counters, smoothing the mussed hair on his arm; speaking with a soft, low voice. "I wouldn't have brought it up if I did John. It's just that, the time seemed right and I had caught him before he was busy with his school work or trying to communicate with his friends. You know how hard it is to find him with a free microt these days. I just didn't think about it, didn't think you would mind, and I'm sorry."

John rests his head against hers, leaning forward, noses touching. "I know. I'm sorry; I don't know what's wrong with me. Everything is happening so fast, it's like I can't keep track of whether we're coming or going any more." His heart is heavy and before he knows what he's doing he's unloading every emotion that lies hidden just under the surface.

"What if this is wrong Aeryn, what if something happens to you or to D'? What if she's not there and this is our last chance? What if, what if I can't bring her back? I just started thinking. Thinking about it all, about the time that's passed, about home; I don't know if I can do this," He mumbles breaking.

For the first time since Taly had been taken from them, the first time Aeryn can remember in cycles, he breaks down before her eyes. This man, her supporter, her lover, her best friend, and her comforter, he has reached his limit. A solitary tear runs down his face, blue eyes lightening with sadness and insecurity. She didn't know how it was possible, but they got even bluer when he was emotional. She cups his cheeks in her hands, wiping the tear with her thumb, kissing him, tasting the salty sadness as it slips onto his lips.

"Look at me. You are the bravest man I have ever known John. You have shown me life; you have shown me how to live. No matter what happens now, no matter what happens in the future. I love you, I trust you, and will be right by you all the way. No matter what happens when we leave this ship tomorrow. No matter what you do, or what you've done. I love you John, damn you for it, but I love you." He can't help but laugh at her ways of expressing her feelings.

"Still not gonna let up with that whole 'I ruined your life' bit are you?" he says with a coy smile.

"Well, if the shoe fits; and besides John Crichton, you did ruin my life. You ruined my life, and then you gave me life. You're stuck with me now." She runs her hand over his shoulder attempting to make use of one of the many English phrases she's picked up from him over the cycles.

"Not such a bad thing to be stuck with, baby. I'll take it." He says taking her lips into his, his tongue insider her mouth.

Tasting her.

Breathing her.

Needing her.

Aeryn lifts his shirt over his head, unbuckles his belt, takes off his holster and he doesn't move a muscle. Watching her, making sure this is real; that she's really his. She takes his hand and leads them to the bed beckoning with soft covers and feathery pillows.

She reaches down to unlace and kick off her boots, stepping out of her leather pants with a grace that no one should have when performing such a mundane task. She bends down to untie his boots and he sits himself on the bed; reaching down to help her undo the last lace, but she pushes his hand away. She wants to do this herself, needs to do this to prove to him that she is his.

John rests his hands on her shoulders, brushing her hair back over firm muscle and sturdy bone. She stands in front of him, bringing his hands up to her shirt, guiding him to the hem of her tank, resting them flat on her stomach, covering them with her own hands. She guides his underneath her shirt, both of them sliding it up, over her head, off of her body as his tired mind starts reeling, working overtime with a fresh breath of energy.

_Thank God for hormones. _

Before he can even complete his task of getting rid of her shirt; her hands are down on his shorts, under the elastic, pulling them down to give her access to where she really wants to be. In microts, Aeryn has his shorts off and touches right where she knows it will bring him to immediate attention. He leans back on his elbows with a moan, taking her in, every single inch of her. Soft skin, lean muscles, long dark hair.

She climbs up on the bed and straddles his lap, pushing him fully back against the soft mattress. He doesn't resist, doesn't try to take control. He doesn't want control. This is one of the many things he loves about her; she doesn't need him to be in control. She is quite capable of that herself.

Aeryn's hands are on the bed on both sides of his head, positioning her directly over him, face to face, as he reaches his head up to take her lips again, pulling her down on top of him. Chests flush, breathing in unison. He reaches his hands down to take off what remains of her clothing, needing to feel every inch of her skin against his. He needs her, he needs her so badly.

He needs her presence, he needs her close, he needs her in his arms. He needs her just like this, nothing more, not tonight. He wants one night, before they leave the safety of this cocoon venturing into who the hell knows what once again.

One night that he can have her safe in his arms, breathing her, feeling her, completely enveloping her.

_One sure way to know she's safe._

Aeryn notices his change in pace and, lifting herself up, she looks down at him with concern raising one hand to brush back her hair so she can get a better view of his face…his eyes.

"What's the matter?" she asks quietly, her elbow settling on the mattress, a thumb rubbing his lower lip. He doesn't answer, just lifts his finger up to her lips, quieting her questions.

"Don't talk," John grabs her arms urging her to take her weight off of them, and rest it fully on top of him. She lies against his chest, listening to his heart, caressing his hair, breathing his scent. He wraps his arms around her, holding her as close as he can possibly get her, not a micro-dench of space between them, not even room for air. Aeryn lifts her head up so she can look him in his eyes which are looking back at her, quiet, peaceful.

She sees the uncertainty resting there and suddenly understands his sudden change in mood. She kisses him soft yet deep expressing her empathy, her equal need for him, and rests her head against his chest closing her eyes. Safe, secure, loved.

John strokes her hair as he closes his eyes. His wife is in his arms, he doesn't need anything more right now. He's tired, so tired, he can feel sleep overtaking him as he strokes her back; breathing steady. And he slowly gives in to his exhaustion, dreams of home, and the ocean, and Aeryn in the sun urging him deeper and deeper into sleep.

- -

Another arn; that's all they need for Moya to work her way safely through the radiation field that they were dodging, and they'll be ready. They will have a clear shot to take the Prowler down to the planet unnoticed and undetected.

_An arn isn't long. You had better frelling be ready._

Aeryn has already programmed the coordinates to the specific location that Jothee had given them for the make shift camp. They don't need more man power, but they do need a place where they can find refuge quickly if this ended up taking longer than they expected. Someplace safe; as safe as they can get that is. Someplace out of sight.

_And the extra protection certainly won't hurt. _

She twists a strand of hair in her fingers looking down at the hologram projected in front of her. Asteroids and radiation waves in bright blue and purple, large and three dimensional, yet small and right in front her eyes. She lifts a hand and runs it through the image, scattering it for a second before it falls back into place. Her mind is wandering, her nerves on edge. She struggles with the common yet conflicting feelings that bubble under the surface.

That itching desire to control her Prowler.

_Flying free._

The feel of a loaded pulse pistol in her hands, not just in her holster.

_Swift blasts of light sharp and on target. _

The thrill of the uncertainty of battle.

The soldier in her scratching its way to the surface.

A microt later her mind is racing with images of her daughter, of John's face the first time he held the baby in his arms, of nursing her and caring for her. Of brushing her soft hair and the feel of a small fist clutching at her finger, at her sons finger. The smell of her little baby girl and the joy in her eyes.

She can't control the images any more, one microt here and the next microt there.

The joy of being a mother, the peace of that roll; compounded with the desire to fight.

_To be a soldier. _

Suddenly overtaken by the angry, scared feeling of knowing that her daughter was lost to her. She's back in that little village with the confused teacher's words ringing in her ears like gunfire.

"Frell me," she mumbles with a sigh. She has to find something to occupy her mind for the next arn. Something other than all of this insanity tumbling around in her tired brain. She looks over to the corner of Command where she finds Jack sitting on the ground, one of his models his right hand while the left is busy juggling two pieces of drawing chalk.

His mouth is moving, he's talking to himself, debating which color will look best on the side of his ship. She can't help but smile, always a bit surprised when she catches her youngest son carrying on a perfectly normal conversation with the air as if he were talking with a real person.

_Like two sides of the same coin. _

His imagination is bottomless.

They had tried to sit down with Jack and explain the situation, what was about to happen and where they were going. But the idea of it seemed to be beyond his grasp. Not only had he not known this sister, this fifth member of their small family, but he didn't know anything about the Peacekeeper's.

They had tried to keep him as far from that aspect of Aeryn's life as possible. As far as she and John were concerned, it was the past and that's where it would stay. They hadn't really had a need to reenter that long buried territory since Jack had been with them until this point. A point when it involved all of them on the front line.

She sees John out of the corner of her eye as he saunters into the room and quickly looks over at him. One glance at his confident walk, one look in his eyes and she already feels less apprehensive, less jittery.

"Hey baby, how's it looking out there?" he asks nonchalantly on his way over to greet his son.

"About an arn and we'll be around this radiation field. Then we're in the clear, it seems," she says, looking back at the hologram one more time to check the immediate outlook on the atmosphere.

John stops in front of Jack, kneeling down and mussing his blond hair. "Hey there little man; how's it going with that ship?"

"Check it out dad," Jack says full of excitement. "It's a Luxan prowler! I made that up! It's for Jothee. I totally made it this awesome color for him!"

John laughs at the massive exuberance coming from the child's small body. "Did you _totally_ make it for him? Something tells me he's gonna love it," John laughs as he hoists his son up on his shoulders, Jack resting his hands on his father's head.

They both wander over towards Aeryn as she watches, remembering why she's doing this. Remembering how and why her life has changed so frelling much, how and why it is all worth it. John begins to walk stumbling and wrenching, imitating a terrible creature of some sort.

"Arrgh…there's your mom…she's not gonna get away from us this time," He growls, all smiles as Jack laughs on his shoulders. As soon as they reach her, Jack is over his dad's head and on her hair, arms around her head, covering her eyes. John is flush to her back and she can feel her son's legs gently kicking at her back side. She laughs and can't help but relax just a little bit more.

"Hmm, looks like I need to work on my reaction time a little bit huh?" Aeryn reaches back and tickles her son's leg, right behind the knee, one of the two spots she knows will have him rolling. He quickly releases his grip on her head, laughing convulsively.

"STOP it Mom…pleeeaaseee…" He's kicking at John and she hears his exaggerated sounds of pain and suffering. "We totally had you! That's not fair. You can't tickle!"

She laughs again "I don't remember that being in the rules; no tickling means no eye covering! It's only fair. And yes, you_ totally_ had me," she moans as she kisses his hands clasped in her own.

"Remind me again John, how many children do I have?" Aeryn kids. "Did you teach him that word recently..._totally_?"

John hoists his son off his shoulders patting his back side steering him back towards his corner and his model.

"Because if you did, I'm really going to have to make you pay a price of some sort for it." She smiles, reaching up her thumb to wipe at some grease that has settled on his chin.

He has obviously been crawling around under her Prowler again; looking for God only knows what.

"Wasn't me, honest. Though I can't say I'd be _totally_ opposed to paying the price for it," he laughs.

John grabs her hand and holds it tightly in his as he leans down to kiss her softly, letting his other hand wander up to brush the side of her face, resting on her cheek for a microt longer that normal. She's in his eyes, and he is in hers. He breaths deep and somehow, that sound comforts her more than any words could right now.

He is ready.

She is ready.

They are like two halves of the same being, reading similar moves and knowing shared thoughts. Something she had never expected could develop from a long term partnership. Not only did you learn each other outside, which was a shock in and of itself, but you learned each other inside as well. Every move, every thought, there were very few surprises and very few things she didn't know about John. She knows his reactions and she knows his mind, and he knows hers.

Aeryn knows he was thinking of her, of their family, and of the fact that this will be over soon. He is thinking of a plan, to get them in and out, and he is thinking about protecting them all. Something she frelling hated about their relationship cycles ago, she now depended upon; it has become invaluable. She had never wanted a protector; never wanted someone who felt they needed to be her savior. She was a frelling Peacekeeper. She sure as hell didn't need some lesser being acting as her conqueror.

After all this time though, she has come to rely on it. She needs it. She had never known real love until it hit her in the face like a ton of Yeulla bricks. And now she doesn't know how to survive without it.

Together, they are ready. All that they need is the okay.


	6. Chapter 5: Over My Head

_**Over my Head**_

"Commander Crichton, Officer Sun, it appears that we are going to clear the radiation field approximately a half an arn earlier than Moya and I had originally calculated." Pilot's voice interrupts the small family's hurried morning meal.

"According to the new readings we should be clear for the Prowler to take off within the next 430 microts."

John glances over at Aeryn noticing she has paused mid-bite. He can't tell if she looks sick, or shocked. Hell, at this point it could be either or both. He reaches over and grabs her hand, squeezing for extra reassurance.

"Well, you ready to do this or what?" He says with a smile, trying to hide his own apprehension about leaving his youngest son, bringing his oldest into the crossfire, and possibly seeing his daughter slip through his fingers again.

"I'm as ready as I'm going to be." She says, determination shadowing her eyes.

Jack immediately looks up from his plate, where he is busy making interesting shapes out of his Krelkar instead of actually eating it.

John gets up and walks over to their youngest son. Kneeling down in front of him, he musses his hair and looks him square in the eyes, all serious. "Hey bud, look at me. Your mom, D'Argo, and I are leaving for a bit."

Jack's eyes come to rest intently on his fathers face, suddenly full of energy at the mention of leaving. "Can't I come too? I don't want to stay here with Gran. I always have to stay here and there's nothing to do."

_Boy can pout with the best of them._

"Nope, not a chance little man. First of all, we won't be gone long. Second, looks like you have plenty to do to me. I was just in your quarters not an arn ago, and you have more toys than I've seen in any market," John says picking him up with ease.

"That's not fair. I never get to do anything." He whines, looking at his mother for back up. "Come on Mommy. I don't wanna stay here," Make shift tears conveniently spring to his eyes.

Aeryn stands to her son's level as John holds him to his side and leans in close to his face. "Jack, we need you to stay here, take care of Moya and Pilot, and especially Gran." She knows exactly what buttons to press to get the desired reaction out of the child. "You'll need to be the temporary commander. Someone has to make sure that things stay safe and sound up here until we get back. Can you handle it?"

He's all smiles at the thought of this concept. That is all it takes. Temporary "Commander" of the Leviathan.

"Yeah, I'll make sure everything is okay Mom, but you'll be back soon right?" he asks, already picking up a more confident tone in his voice, taking the new roll designation of "Jack the brave" very seriously.

"We'll be back in no time. I promise." She assures him as she leans in for a kiss. His cheek is warm and flushed with excitement. Jack grabs on to her neck and holds on for dear life. Another kiss to the head and she slowly works her way out of his grasp.

John sets him down on the ground with a salute before he kneels down to kiss him on the nose and muss his hair once more for good measure. "I'm counting on you buddy, don't let your old dad down okay?"

John looks Aeryn square in the eyes as he stands, but she's gone. He only sees the hardened soldier he met all those cycles ago. She's ready and there's no more time to waste, for any reason.

_Fear._

_Hesitation. _

Time to put it all away, lock it in that far off corner of the mind where it's voice can't be heard, and do this. John takes his son's hand, and looks intently at his wife.

"We're going to go find Grandma, make sure she understands that we'll be back soon and that she and the 'Commander' here aren't to ditch us in the middle of space with no get away car." He winks at Aeryn, barely drawing a smile out of tight lips. "You wanna go look over the Prowler one more time, make sure we have everything we need? Make sure that I haven't missed anything?" Aeryn nods and John grabs her hand and squeezes firmly. A simple gesture, a gesture that says it's going to be okay; that he's ready too. He watches her walk down the corridor in the opposite direction, gold light of the corridor making her dark hair glow.

Her back is straight with resolve as he watches her turn the corner.

It's time to make things right; once and for all.

- -

**(Present) **

"_You said 'I know that this will hurt, but if I don't break your heart things will just get worse. When the burden seems too much to bear, remember the end will justify the pain it took to get us there'_"

It's late, so frelling late. John had fantasized, he'd hoped so desperately, that once they returned to Moya, once this whole ordeal was behind them, things would quickly fall back into their normal pattern; that he would start sleeping again, that they would all settle back into their routine, and that they would meld together as a family somehow.

_Wishful fucking thinking._

Well, if anything, the opposite had happened. It has been two solar days since they've returned with Taly. Two days of trying to get through to her, trying to let her know that it was going to be okay. Two days of looking at the hardness that has encased his little girl. Two days of watching Aeryn struggle with the fact that she didn't know how to deal with this.

_Two days of absolute hell. _

John sits on the edge of their bed, elbows on knees, chin cupped in his hands. He's so damned tired, but sleep is impossible. Aeryn lies behind him, looking up at the dark golden ceiling of their quarters. She's not sleeping. He's not sure when she last slept. He rests his hand on the bed and turns to face her, his other hand quickly moving to stroke her cheek, careful to avoid the cut still lingering on her forehead. She is so beautiful, damn the rest of it to hell. He has to make this right.

His thumb softly strokes the cool skin on her face. "I'm going to go get a drink, baby. You want anything?" he asks.

All he gets in reply is a shake of the head, and her continued blank stare at the ceiling. He leans down to softly kiss her on the lips before he's up and out of the room, on his way down the quiet corridor towards the mess. He needs something hard, something to help him shut down his overactive brain for a little while, or at least slow it down long enough for him to get some rest.

A sudden sound stops him in his tracks, a sure sign that someone else is up wandering; or that someone, something is on board Moya besides his family. John flattens himself against the wall, and slowly slides his right hand down to his holster. Snaking his finger through the trigger on his pulse pistol he clicks off the safety. His nerves are still on edge. He's still in fighting mode if he even had such a thing. He can sense the instinct of being wary at even the slightest disturbance taking over his head and his actions. He quickly slides around the bend, pulling out the pistol, both arms up and in front of him in one fluid motion as the barrel comes to rest squarely in the face of his daughter.

"_Jesus Christ_," John yelps, completely unnerved at seeing her standing in front of him. It hasn't been long enough; the concept of her being back is still foreign to his mind. Before he can react with another move, the girl smacks the pistol from his hands and leans down to pick it up. Instead of looking at her blue eyes he's now staring straight into the barrel of his own damn gun.

"Whoa! Whoa there Taly," He lifts his hands up, a sign that he doesn't intend to hurt her, the closest thing he's got to a white flag. "I didn't think you were up, I didn't think _anyone_ was up. That's the only reason I had the pistol out," he stammers with deep breaths, tense and nervous, upset over the fact that he doesn't know whether or not he can trust his own kid.

"Is that the way you greet your family? With a gun in the face?" She says with a smirk, taking a step closer. Her small frame stands erect. She seems completely used to the feel of the metal weapon in her hands. The sight of it makes John feel sick. His daughter was twelve fucking years old. She should be playing with dolls and tea sets, she shouldn't be holding a damn gun and she sure as hell shouldn't know how to USE one.

"Okay, put the gun down," John pleads, the barrel resting inches from his chest. "I didn't mean to scare you. What are you doing wandering around right now anyways?"

Taly seems to let her stance relax, just slightly, still on guard thanks to years of Peacekeeper training and simulations like the one they'd just pulled her from.

"I was looking for someplace to get a drink," She mumbles, looking away and attempting to avoid his eyes. John slowly and gently lets his hands fall back to his side, a deep breath of relief snaking out of his lips. He can still feel his heart beating against his chest like a hammer. His "little" girl had scared the shit out of him. He takes a small step forward. She's noticeably exhausted. There doesn't seem to be any fight left in her at this point.

He quickly takes the gun back from her hand and holsters it, trying to put the remnants of the moment behind them.

"Well, it just so happens that I was heading to get a little drink myself," he states, trying to lighten the mood. The girl is obviously too tired to put up much of a fight at this point. The only sleep she's gotten is the 4 or so arns that Noranti's powder had brought upon her unwittingly. He lifts his arm up and gently pushes her shoulder ahead of him barely touching the soft cloth of her shirt before she pulls away. He leads her in the direction of the Mess. "Right this way."

He's pulling out his best ammo here, all charm, all the time. "If you ever get thirsty, hungry, anything; just head in this direction and old Noranti, we call her Gran, your Mom or I will hook you up with whatever you need, okay?" He is _so_ on the verge of some kind of breakthrough here.

"She's not my Gran," the girl spits out with disdain as if the very word burns her tongue. "She's a crazy, three eyed, old woman."

So, maybe he wasn't as close to that breakthrough as he thought. This is the Taly they had come to know since she had started speaking to them.

They continue the rest of distance in silence, share a glass of water in silence, and walk back to her quarters in silence. His breakthrough has become more of a blow out.

"So, Umm…you need anything else?" What the hell is he supposed to do now? Tuck her in and kiss her goodnight?

"No, I don't need anything from you," She is obviously not too tired to provide him with one more look of contempt before she slides quickly into her dark quarters. John can hear her stop short just on the other side of the gate and waits quietly. If she's going to say something, anything, he doesn't want to stick his big foot in his mouth and ruin it. Before he can ruin anything however, he can hare her footsteps pick up again.

"Yeah, okay, so you have a good night." He says to the door before turning to go. "Maybe when you get up in the morning we can have pancakes for breakfast and I'll take you to the park to fly a kite," He continues under his breath as he wanders slowly back to his and Aeryn's quarters. Could this situation possibly be any more frelled?

"Wait John, you know the rules of the universe. Asking yourself a question like that is practically code for _begging_ for more frelling," he chuckles quietly as he slides his hand over the door panel, sneaking his way in to the room.

"I'm still awake," He hears Aeryn say, giving him clearance to move freely without the fear of waking her.

She is still lying on their bunk, staring at the ceiling. She hasn't moved a dench. He wanders over to the narrow ledge that lines the wall of the quarters and leans his back against it stiffly. He had quickly grabbed a small bottle on the way out of the galley and he pulls it out of his pocket. Cool and clear and filled with fellip they were saving for a special occasion, or a fucked up one as the case may be. He isn't keeping track.

John quickly uncaps the bottle, taking a firm swig of the sweet liquid, savoring the burn as it makes it way down his throat and into his stomach. Now, this is more along the lines of the drink he had planned on. He steps over to sit on the edge of the bed, taking another, deeper swallow. He feels Aeryn sit up behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder and snaking her arm up and around his other shoulder and rubbing his chest. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back as he tries to imprint the feel of the touch in his brain, lets it override all of the other feelings and emotions that are kicking around in his mind. Aeryn reaches for the bottle and pulls it from his hand, taking a long drink of her own.

"I think I had a bit of a breakthrough; well, a something. I'm not really sure what it was now that I think about it actually," John mutters.

"What are you talking about?" Aeryn asks between sips.

"Your daughter, I ran into her in the corridor. Actually, I pulled a gun on her in the corridor. That'd probably be more accurate." Aeryn chokes down her last swallow behind him, sputtering her words out.

"What the frell happened?" She asks shocked.

"I didn't expect anyone to be up. All I heard were some noises and well, I was on edge and I over reacted. Next thing I knew I was pointing a gun at Taly." He takes the bottle back from her hands and takes another long drink himself. Fellip is a hell of a lot stronger than anything on Earth and he can already feel it going to his head. His legs feel tingly and his stomach is warm.

"And?" Aeryn prods.

"And she obviously takes after her mom because she quickly proceeded to kick my ass. Well, not exactly, but she could have at that point if she would have wanted to. She's damn fast," He sighs and hears Aeryn laugh lightly behind him as he turns to face her.

"You laughing at me woman?" he wearily jokes.

"Well, you did just get taken by our twelve cycle old daughter, you realize this right?" she asks.

_Well, when you put it that way; of course it sounds shitty. _

"Okay, well how would you have reacted if you realized you were pointing a gun at our kid?" He questions.

"Hmm, that's a good question," she wraps her arms around his waist, breath soft on his neck. "Probably wouldn't have drawn the pistol in the first place, until I _knew_ there was a threat."

He rests his hands on top of hers, his head down. "Yeah, I guess when I said I 'over reacted,' that _was_ a bit of an understatement."

"Just a little perhaps," She says soothingly. "I'm sure she wasn't thrown off that badly. She has been trained as a soldier."

Her words offer very little in the way of comfort; he's still stuck on the fact that he just pulled a pulse pistol on his own daughter. "I guess," he mumbles.

"What was she doing out at this time of the sleep cycle?" Aeryn asks, rubbing his stomach through the soft material of his shirt.

"She was looking for a drink. I took her to the mess and we almost had a one sentence conversation that didn't involve the words 'go away', 'I'm not talking to you' or 'Frell off?' I was feeling pretty optimistic until the cat got her tongue and that was the last I heard."

Aeryn sighs with a questioning glance.

"It's just an expression babe. Her tongue is fine," John says as he lies back on the bed, resting the bottle on his stomach. "I think she's slowly coming around. She can't keep that wall up forever."

He's optimistic. He has to be optimistic. If he loses whatever semblance of hope he's managed to hold on to; the insanity of the situation will really start to get to him. But, Then again, if the girl really takes after her mother, the wall could be a lot damn harder to break through than he had planned on.

John closes his eyes, savoring the lightheaded sensation that the fellip brings. It feels good. It relaxes him. He'll take it, even if it's only for a few fleeting moments of peace.  
The small bottle is already empty, holding just enough for he and Aeryn both to get a little buzz, enough to help take their minds off of the moment and onto something else entirely.

He can feel her hand rubbing slowly at the base of his stomach, gentle touch of cool fingers as she makes her way under the fabric of his shirt and on to the flat plane of his belly. His head is spinning slightly, a combination of the fellip, the feel of Aeryn's hands on overly sensitive skin, and the overwhelming emotions of the situation that he had just stumbled upon create an intoxicating mix of urgency and desire. He loses his grip on the bottle and it rolls off of his stomach, off of the bed, and onto the floor, hitting with the clank of glass against tile. It doesn't break, but something inside of him does.

He reaches for her, pulling her on top of him and she settles her hands on his chest. His hands move slowly and carefully up and down her sides, not leaving one dench of space untouched. There is nothing to say, nothing to fill the silence except hitched breath and the sound of fabric against sheets. Their eyes are locked, both dark with urgency and need. They are caught in the moment; neither wanting to move for fear that something will jolt them out of this time and place and back into the harsh reality that their life has been these last several days.

His eyes travel her face and settle on her lips, soft and shining; wet from the remnants of the Fellip. He needs to taste them, needs to feel them, so he quickly moves his head up and kisses her fully. His tongue slips inside her mouth, tasting the sweetness of the drink and of her. His hands are in her hair, like he's holding on for dear life. They twist in the dark locks and he gladly lets her hair spill over them and onto his face. He needs her so badly; sometimes it's hard for him to function. She totally takes over his mind.

Equally as needy at this point, Aeryn lightly nips at his lower lip, something that she knows drives him crazy, and he moans into her mouth.

He breaks the kiss slowly, pulling her head down to rest against his. Nose against nose, warm breath mingling, eyes closed. _Don't rush this John_; something in the back of his mind tells him. _Take it slow, enjoy every minute you have with her in your arms._

Fucking Fellip. He wanted her and he wanted her now.

He lifts her arms over her head as she sits and straddles him. Hands grazing the soft skin of her stomach, he takes the bottom of her shirt and pulls it up and over her head. She shakes her head after working her hair free from the shirt. It falls long and dark on her back and he savors the soft, full feel of it in his fingers, twisting several strands between them. It feels…well, it feels more than it usually does. It's softer, thicker, and warmer and he can't seem to take his fingers off of it. Is it real, or is it the drink?

He can't tell any more. He doesn't care.

He sits up and leans against the headboard behind them as Aeryn takes the bottom of his black T-shirt and lifts it up and over his head. She takes her head down to his chest, where lips meet skin. She is everywhere, he can feel her everywhere. Like a million sensations from all over his body, it's all he can do to keep from passing out.

He leans his head down, softly whispering her name. She's on his stomach, on his chest, his neck, all the while her hands are on his pants. She's working the zipper down, maneuvering the leather in ways that are making him insane. He can't take it any more, he needs them off now. He moves his hands down to help work them off of his hips, but she doesn't want any of that. She brushes his hands away and continues her mission unaided.

He is _so_ ready, and she so knows it, and _god_ she drives him crazy and he absolutely frelling loves her with every inch of his being.

Her hands are on him, firm and warm, and he inadvertently moves under her touch. He can't hold out much longer, there's no way, especially not with the mixture of the fellip and her on top of him the way she is. Before she can move another dench his hands are under her shorts, sliding them down her thin hips for better access. He's there in a microt as she throws her head back and growls his name. She is absolutely ready; he can feel it on his stomach and through her touch. He swells at the thought that he still has such an effect on her.

_My Aeryn. _

John pulls her down swiftly and pays some much needed attention to her breasts, not leaving one dench of skin untouched.

She's soft and hard at the same time; sweet, tasting completely of her.

Aeryn tries to stifle down a moan in order to nip at the lobe of his left ear. He can feel her tongue, her warm breath on his skin. His hands are all over her back, and he gently shifts her body downward. She can't wait any longer and neither can he. She takes his lips in a harsh kiss, tongues dueling, and she takes him inside of her as he moans her name again. He might die, and he can't think of a better way to go. His hips buck up underneath of her. He needs to be as far inside of her as he can. Needs to own every inch of her But she's in control, has him right where she wants him. She presses against his chest, pushing him back against the head board, and sets her own pace. She quickly rocks against him and frell if he can stay still. His hands are on her hips as he begins to move inside of her, while his fingers move outside. It doesn't take half a microt before she's over the edge, hands on his chest, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out. The sight and feel of her coming around him is all he needs and he's gone, his back arched, head thrown back.

All he sees are stars and Aeryn's face and all he feels is her completely taking him in. A weak cry is all he can muster; the feel of all of his muscles working overtime seems to be draining him of any energy he might have left for a voice.

John's head his spinning. They are all sweat and breath and completely tangled as one.

She leans down on his chest, rubbing at his sides, heavy breathing and gentle kisses to his skin. He can't get control of his heart and he closes his eyes again, trying to remember the last time he felt so alive. His hands are on her back, smoothing heated skin, gliding along her arms. She moves her mouth to claim her spot in the crook of his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. Neither is in a hurry to move, to lose the moment.

He kisses the top of her head, slips out of her to roll on his side, and rests his head against the cool softness of the pillow. He lays a hand on her back encouraging her to do the same. She doesn't hesitate and moves softly into place, her back against his chest, his arms around her, a perfect fit.

"Promise me that it's all going to be okay," she whispers. It's not a question, just a request for some sort of reassurance.

"I promise baby, it's gonna be okay. I love you so much," He responds, reluctant to see this moment pass and beckon the reality of their situation.

Aeryn moves her head forward, lifting his hands to her mouth and kisses his knuckles softly as he closes his eyes. He lets the feel of her overtake him. Lets the fellip overtake him. Lets love overtake him.

His eyes flutter shut as his breathing slows and sleep comes like a thief to steal him away.


	7. Chapter 6: How to Save a Life

**_How to Save a Life  
_(Back to the past)**

The Prowler is uncomfortable at best, too cramped for three fully grown people. The small craft is only meant for two and Aeryn can feel frustration getting the best of her even though they haven't yet landed on the planet. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to rein in her rising anger.

After a minor squabble with John over who was going to control the craft, she sits in the pilot seat, her son and her husband crammed in behind her. This was definitely not the most passenger friendly way to get to the destination, but after much deliberation with Jothee they had decided that the Prowler would provide much better cover in Peacekeeper space not to mention the fact that it was the only craft that they could use to fly a stealth trajectory. The Transport Pod was definitely not the best option.

She slips back into the mode of pilot as if it were something she still did every day. The controls and gear shifts are fluid in her hands and the lights and control signals on the panel come together like the pages of a book that she's read many times before. It all feels right. It feels natural.

John sits silently behind her, his warm breath on her neck a pleasant comfort. Her son on the other hand is sitting behind his father; their long legs tangled uncomfortably, and is quiet for a different reason. If she had to guess, she would say he is about 80 percent determination at this point, and 20 percent nerves. He worries the tip of his thumb with his teeth, a nervous habit he'd picked up as a boy. She had yet to figure out a way to break him of it, but her instincts told her she needed to. Any physical reaction that could easily give sign of inner emotions needs to be snuffed out before it gets him in trouble.

"D'Argo, stop biting at your thumbs," she commands coolly. She's all business now.

"Sorry Mom," he replies quickly pulling his thumb away from his mouth and shoving his hand into his pocket.

Space is unusually dark around this planet, and the temperature rises as they come close to breaching the atmosphere. Aeryn adjusts the temperature controls in the cockpit for more stability and shifts the Prowler as they begin their descent, picking up speed as they break atmosphere. Her fingers tighten around the yoke as she steers through the turbulence, remaining calm even as the ship vibrates around her. All she can see is fire and all she can feel is heat. Before it can really start to get to her, affecting her vision and motor skills and her very ability to function, they are in the upper atmosphere of the planet. She brings down the drive and adjusts some of the inner atmospheric controls of the ship, slowly easing it down through the gently lightening sky.

They make their way though clouds and water droplets, winds and cross breeze. Across a sky of deep blues, purples, and oranges that reminds her so much of John's Earth.

_The same thoughts must be going through his mind as well._

She quickly glances back to see him glancing longingly in the direction of the small planet. It is less green than Earth. There is less water. But she can still see in his eyes that he is noting the resemblance, and she reaches her hand back to gently rub his knee.

"I verified the coordinates; we should be coming in directly over the area of Jothee's camp site." John rattles authoritatively. "If I'm on target we shouldn't have to hike too far to get to home base."

"Try to make contact with him, make sure that the comms are scrambled before you do," Aeryn says, still focusing on landing the ship.

"Jothee, ten four buddy. It's Crichton, you out there?" His family is so used to his "earth" speak that they don't even flinch when he says something they don't understand any more.

Silence, they're met with silence and the crackling of lost communications.

"Shit," John exclaims.

"Give it a bit Dad. We've just made it through the upper atmosphere of the planet, the comms could be slowed due to interference," D' mumbles behind them, thumb back in his mouth, muffling his speech.

"_Stop_ biting D'Argo," Aeryn chides again before shifting her attention. "He's right, wait a microt and see if he answers."

They sit through several microts of silence, traveling across the bright blue and hazy yellow of the sky, land drawing closer, when suddenly the stillness is broken by Jothee's deep voice.

"Crichton, right on time, two arns late. Why am I not surprised?" He asks. They had developed a close friendship with Jothee after the war, taken him into their family in a way, much the same way it always was with his father, Chiana, and Rygel. He didn't stay with them long after the end of the war, but he was in and out quite frequently and they usually knew where he would be and what he was involved in. It didn't fill the void left in John's heart after the loss of D'Argo, she knew this, but it was a new friendship that they had both embraced in a different way.

"_Fashionably _late; gotta keep up appearances J. We ran into a little inter-atmospheric disturbance, nothing major, but it did slow us up a bit. If I'm right, or even close to right, we should be just about on top of you all," John replies, peering out the windows of the Prowler.

"We see you up there on the beacon, just bring her down straight and you shouldn't be but a few hundred henta's away from our base camp. Now, get your eema's down here so we can get moving," Jothee says, the combination of his deep voice and good humor more reminiscent of his father with each passing cycle.

"You heard the man," John gruffs with a mock authoritative tone to Aeryn. Something she's in no mind set for. She quickly gives him a sharp look to make her somber mood clear.

They settle back into silence in the crowded Prowler as she slowly brings it to land on a rare, relatively flat surface in the midst of a sea of rocky terrain.

The ship hums down, as the top hatch pops open and Aeryn's breath catches in her throat as her body attempts to adjust to the heavy humidity hanging in the air. It is thick with heat and moister, something they weren't expecting. They were going to have to move a lot faster than they had originally planned. She tries to fill her lungs with a good breath, but the thickness makes it hard. It isn't overwhelmingly hot, not the point of danger, but if they don't move fast, and make sure she has plenty of liquid, it could get very bad, very quickly.

"Why isn't this…air bothering you?" Aeryn stutters to John, annoyed with her "apparent" weakness when he doesn't appear to be showing any.

"I was raised in Florida baby; we grow humidity like it's going out of style." He says, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, shoving her short comings back in her face.

"I've been to your home and it was _nothing_ like this." She grits angrily.

"True, but you haven't been to Orlando in the summer." John hoists up some of his gear and slings it over his shoulder.

All she can muster in response to his goading and senseless talk is a glare as she picks up her sack and her canteen heading off in the opposite direction towards the location of Jothee's communication.

She can hear the ruffling and clanking of guns behind her as John and D'Argo pick up what's remaining of their provisions and follow her path. The hatch of the Prowler whirs shut behind them and they head over the rocky crevice and into the unfamiliar land that stretches before them for as far as they can see. Rocks and strange plants paint the landscape with an eerie look; their unusual shapes and long shadows casting strange visions on the dusty ground. The sky is a yellowish blue at its height and dark around the horizon with stars shining brightly and dotting the harsh blue with pin pricks of light. The planet is quiet; the only sounds they can make out are their own footfalls as their boots crunch against the dry ground.

John pulls out his small tracking unit and checks the status of their location, making sure they're on the right path. He stops, hoisting the strap of his bag further up on his shoulder and breathing deeply. Aeryn senses that he has stopped moving behind her and turns to catch his eye with a questioning look. Why the frell are they stopping? She pulls out her canteen, already desperate for the feel of cool water touching her tongue, her throat.

_This is not a good sign, not at all._

_- - _

"Camp should be just a hop, skip, and a jump to the north." John states pointing towards a small hill.

D' sits down roughly on a small rock, trying to catch a deep breath that won't cause him to sputter and choke.

"This air is frelling horrible." He remarks. "Remind me never to go to your home planet Dad."

"Hey, it's not always like this. Besides, you get used to it D'. Just give it a little time and you won't even notice the difference." John replies looking down at the monitor of the palm sized tracking unit.

Just as he turns slightly to start walking in the direction of the camp, a little creature scurries out in front of him. He jumps back, a natural reaction to an unnatural being.

"Oh holy mother of Jesus!" John exclaims as he stumbles backwards tripping over a rock and landing on his back side hard. "Shit, that hurt."

He stands quickly, rubbing his ass.

"Hey little guy, you scared me." John leans down to observe the creature that has put a scuff on his shiny exterior of bravery. It's covered in a grayish fur, with large ears and large, wide eyes. It seems cute to him, like a little chinchilla, but before he knows it the creature is all sharp teeth and large claws, quickly aiming its small body for his knee. It suddenly flies back following a sharp burst of light and hits the ground, its insides smoking, and now conveniently located on the outside.

"What the hell was that?" He asks breathlessly, looking back at Aeryn as she holsters her pistol.

_Saving your ass, as always. _

"Perhaps we shouldn't get so friendly with the locals hmm?" She scolds with a sharp look. He hears his son chuckle under his breath.

"Hey, I didn't see you coming to the rescue there big man," John asserts, looking back down at the smoking carcass. "Guess the little fur ball didn't like my new cologne."

Before they can make another move, they hear heavy footfalls approaching from the opposite direction. He sees Aeryn grab the back of D's shirt and drag him behind a rocky outpost with her pistol ready. John pulls out Winona and hunkers behind a large boulder. Damn if this wasn't his luck. Almost get eaten by a little gremlin and now they've alerted what is most likely the big momma, extra large gremlin to come and give them a swift ass kicking and enjoy them for supper. His finger is poised on the trigger, and he feels a drop of nervous sweat trickle down his forehead.

He suddenly sees Aeryn come out from behind the encasement and he gives her a look, attempting to get her attention, questioning her actions.

_Is the heat getting to her?_

"Jothee, it is so frelling good to see you." John hears his wife say, relief in her voice for the first time since they had made land fall.

"We heard a pulse blast, you okay?" Jothee questions as John holsters Winona and climbs out from behind his hiding spot attempting to catch his breath and calm his nerves.

"We're fine. John was just getting re-acquainted with easy ways to get attacked on an unfamiliar planet. He's very good at that." Aeryn laughs gingerly.

"J! Are we ever glad to see you?" John exclaims, relief just as evident in his voice.

"John, it's good to see you again my friend, and under these circumstances hopefully it will be a good visit."

John reaches out to grab Jothee's extended hand and pulls him into a hug, an earth greeting that had been passed off to his friends and family. Jothee is accompanied by several other large Luxan officers; facial tattoo's making their rankings clear. They're all dressed for combat.

D'Argo comes sauntering out of his hiding place to greet his friend. "Jothee, it's been a long time."

"Too long little man; who is not so little any more I see," Jothee greets with a smile as he shakes their son's hand, looking him up and down.

"Less than twenty henta's away from camp and I see your dad here is already causing trouble?"

"My one true talent in life," John replies good naturedly. He walks up behind Aeryn and pulls her to his side.

"And Aeryn, three little ones later, still as beautiful as ever," Jothee charms and she smiles tightly in return. She's ready to get down to business, ready to get their daughter back.

"Layin' it on a little thick there 'eh buddy?" John jokes.

"What can I say? You're a lucky man my friend." Jothee laughs. "You all could probably use some food, a little water, and then we can talk about how we want to handle the situation." Jothee says, guiding them steadily towards the camp, glancing back in their direction quickly. "It is so good to see you."

- -

The small crew walks the short distance over several rocky areas before the Luxan camp site comes into view. They have set up several tents that run the length of a small stream, the only water Aeryn can see. Three more Luxan soldiers sit around a small fire, cooking something in a kettle of some sort. One of the soldiers is looking over a tactical map, planning moves and evaluating procedure.

They gather around the cooking fire and Aeryn can smell whatever it is that they're preparing. Her stomach informs her that she's hungrier than she had realized with a muffled growl. John hasn't let go of her hand as their son trails behind them, and she doesn't mind; doesn't really want him to. Jothee introduces his comrades as Tellan, Sash, Bruye, H'tna, and Myann. H'tna and Myann had been stranded on the planet after a short recon mission, prisoners of war, and now that the small unit had found them the only reason they were still planet side was because Jothee refused to leave without offering their services however they could be used. The gesture isn't lost on Aeryn as she realizes how much Jothee is really like his father.

D'Argo falls into easy conversation with H'tna on flight theory and universal quantum physics, something he wants to study during the year to come. H'tna is obviously very familiar with flight theory and navigation and he quickly shuffles D' over to explain some of the more complicated controls of their larger vessel. Aeryn settles her gear as far from the small, hot fire as possible as she glances over at her son, his easy manner of conversing with strangers once again making it clearly evident that his way with people quite obviously came from his father. She wanders over to look down at the map set on a flat stone and she quietly studies the distance between this camp and the PK training area. They aren't far, roughly 100 metra's or so, but they are well hidden and have the element of surprise on their side.

"The way we figure it," Jothee starts scooping out some of the stew for her and John, who has wandered to her side, and handing it to them as he continues. "Our best bet is going to be heading into the camp after nightfall."

Aeryn nods. "Yes, that will definitely be our best chance. If this is a regular planet side training regimen then the cadets will be sent to bunk soon after nightfall, with several guards on patrol."

"Early to bed, early to rise. The early bird gets the worm. Catch 'em like a dear in the headlights…" John says between bites.

"Did you bring an extra translator for his nonsense?" Jothee asks Aeryn. "I still don't frelling understand half of what comes out of his mouth."

"Neither do I." She replies with a smirk "Just nod and smile, best way to handle him."

John picks up the map, studying it intently, his mind elsewhere. "You're not coming in with us J." It's a statement, not open to debate.

"What are you talking about? You can't go in alone," Jothee interjects.

"Nope, no way buddy. I've dragged way too many people into unnecessary danger over my time out here, and I'm not doing it anymore. We'll be better off with less people. We'll have the element of surprise, less noise, less to alarm the Peacekeeper bastards with." John rambles, determined to get his point across. "Aeryn and I will go in, you and D' stay on the perimeter and watch our backs. We'll grab the kidlet and meet up with you as soon as we can. Then we're _all_ getting the hell off this planet ASAP."

"He's right," Aeryn agrees. "The smaller of a group we go in with, the better our chances are of getting out."

"You would know better than anyone." Jothee finally relents with a sigh. "We'll have your back, but we'll stay out of sight. I'd say we have about 2 arns or so before nightfall here. Enough time for some food and a little rest, some time to look over the map and topography a little more, and then we'll head out. It's a bit of a walk to the training camp, but it shouldn't take us more than an arn or so." He continues, standing to check the old Qualta Blade he still carries, a piece of his father that he's never relinquished. It clicks loudly as he checks the oil cartridge.

Aeryn takes one more bite of food. It's all she can handle before tension causes her stomach to tighten up. She takes a deep breath of miserably thick air; all she can think about now is getting her daughter and getting them the hezmana off of this planet and back to the general safety of Moya. She looks at John, his thumb resting on his lip, and she knows that his feelings mirror her own. His hand slides under her hair and gently down her back, and comes to rest at her side. He pulls her inconspicuously closer to him with a small kiss on the side of her head and a whispered "Almost there," in her ear. It's a simple mark of reassurance, a voiced sign that he is by her side. They _are_ almost there and one way or another, on this night, they will bring this ordeal to an end.


	8. Chapter 7: Thin Blue Line

_**Thin Blue Line**_

Never in his life has John Crichton experienced two hours that have passed more fucking slowly. He's lost count of how many times he's twiddled his damn thumbs. They feel numb. He's spent the past thirty minutes watching Aeryn clean her pulse pistol for the twentieth damn time in the past two solar days and listening to his son jabber non-stop about some theory of atmospheric flight that was beyond what his tired, old brain could handle right now. All he can think about is getting this over with. He wants it to be done and he wants his family back together and off of this planet. He sighs as he picks a small pebble and curtly tosses it across the dry ground. It immediately stirs up a tiny whirlwind of yellow dust that gets caught in the slight breeze. Cause and effect. Like a whisper. A tease of dancing comfort that never comes.

The sky is growing a soft shade of orange and he can't help but think of a calm sunset over the Atlantic; cool ocean breeze in his face, evening sand between his toes, and a tune blaring from the open windows of his parked truck.

"You ready to head out?" Jothee pats him on the shoulder, rousing him from his reverie. "It's heading towards night fall; we should be okay to start off in the direction of the camp without being spotted."

John turns his head and glances up at Jothee, who swings his Qualta blade over his shoulder and takes a few long strides over to talk to two of his men, before he looks back at Aeryn as she loads a cartridge into the chamber of her pulse pistol after sweeping it quickly under her nose. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes look tired. The heat is bothering her, he can tell. His only solace is the hope that the night air will bring with it some relief.

He can't read her; she's back to the emotionless Peacekeeper soldier that he met all that time ago. He stands and walks over to her, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder. He's not used to seeing her like this; he hasn't for a hell of a long time. Her hair is pulled into a tight braid, her posture rigid. She stands quickly and kisses him on the cheek, which catches him off guard considering her current mood.

"Let's go get our daughter," She says, her gray eyes burning, thumb rubbing the stubble on his cheek. He palms his holster, making sure Winona is safe, secure, and ready for action and turns to follow Aeryn as she heads off in the direction of the training camp.

"D' buddy, lets get this show on the road. Time to rock and roll." His son glances at him, dark hair blowing with the breeze, a flush of excitement, of nerves, darkening his cheeks and grabs his small sack saying good bye to H'tna. D' follows his parents down the rocky path while Jothee picks up the rear of the small party as they start the short journey in relative silence. Each lost in their own thoughts, focused on the task, on all of the prep they have been filling their heads with for the past two arns.

The hike is slow. There isn't a clear cut path and nerves are on edge, especially John and Aeryn's. The air is thick with tension and John's pretty sure that, if he had a knife, he could cut it.

He whistles a few bars of _Freebird_.

_Nothing like Lynyrd Skynyrd to get a guy in the mood for some action._

Aeryn glances over her shoulder giving him a look that clearly says _shut the hell up or else…_ and he's not arguing with her when she's armed and on a mission so he does just that and they travel the next arn or so in silence.

By the time they get to the far perimeter of the camp, it's completely dark and becoming hard to navigate. Using a light is out of the question if they want to remain invisible.

Aeryn kneels behind a scrawny bush, her hands resting on leather clad knees, trying to scope out the situation from the short distance and the long dark before she pulls out the oculars she has stowed in a small cargo pocket on her pants to get a clearer view.

John grabs them from her after several microts in an effort to quell his curiosity. He peers through the oculars at the green tinted landscape before him. There are two large tents laid out in the middle of the circular camp, both facing different directions towards the outside edge. A small fire and cooking equipment is located in between the living areas where two guards sit lazily playing some kind of card game, pulse rifles resting by their sides. Two guards also man the singular entrance to each tent, one stationed on the right of the large flap and one on the left.

"Just as I thought; the cadets are already in their tents. Six guards total. Four armed guards that double as training instructors, several less than I was expecting, and two other guards sitting around a fire with some frelling Fellip Nectar, obviously on break from duty. The Marauder is out of sight," Aeryn says taking back the oculars and eyeing the relaxing guards, her hand resting firmly on her pistol.

"This is going way too smoothly. Things never go this well for us." John mutters. "Something is going to screw this up, I can feel it."

"Maybe fate is on our side this time." Aeryn says in a hushed voice, meeting his eyes for a split microt.

"Maybe." he relents, moving his hand up to brush a stray hair from her cheek. "You have the Tranq powder from Grandma?"

She pulls a small black pouch out from one of her pockets and holds it eye level for him to see. One of the old woman's library of many substances that held different purposes, this one solely used as a knock out drug. They're ready. They have calculated the situation forward and backward. Aeryn knew that the cadet's bunks would be marked with name, unit, and rank so as long as they could get in quietly, they could locate her even if they didn't recognize her.

The thought of not recognizing his own kid is enough to make him clench his jaw in anger, determination renewed.

"Okay D', you don't use that pistol unless you HAVE to. Do you understand me?" John whispers harshly to his son, gripping him firmly by the collar. D'Argo is putting on a brave front, but John can see there is a trace of fear skittering across his eyes.

"I won't Dad. Not unless I have to." He replies lowly, the last phrase an afterthought.

"We'll be right here in the underbrush. If anything goes bad these frelling Peacekeepers won't know what the hezmana hit them," Jothee whispers, pulling his blade over his shoulder and opening the pistol shaft.

John scopes the camp, making note of the entry ways. Okay, looks like the tents open on the side facing the outside of the camp," he says as Aeryn looks on. "Let's start with the one furthest to the right."

He turns to Aeryn. "You take the left guard and I'll take the right. We'll have to knock them upside the head as quietly as we can; take them right out so they don't have a chance to make a sound."

"You're not going to tell me that you want to steal their uniforms and try to make a play out of this are you?" She asks in a completely serious tone. "There are six frelling guards John, don't you think they'd recognize their own?"

He looks at her incredulously "Honey, seriously…give me some credit here. I'm all about taking them out and getting our asses out of here as quickly as possible. There's no time for a game of dress up."

_As fun as that sounds._

John throws one more look at his son, mussing his hair and patting him roughly on the arm. Aeryn turns to the boy and takes his hand, squeezing it quickly. "Be careful…please," She pleads in a worried tone.

"_You_ be careful, we'll be fine." D'Argo replies with a confident air.

With another quick glance at each other, they un-holster their pistol's in unison. Some couples know each other's every word; they knew each others every move. This is a dance that they've perfected cycles ago.

The pair move stealthily through the bushes and underbrush, making their way over rocks and stopping every few henta's to make sure that they haven't been heard or spotted somehow over the short distance.

When they come to the opposite side of the camp, right behind the first tent, they give each other a knowing glance and part ways at the rear.

John quietly sneaks around to the front around the left side, directly behind the guard. It seems to have been an uneventful detail as the man is lax and completely at ease. John counts his blessings, raises his arm slowly, slamming the butt of his gun into the side of soldiers head as quietly as he can. The guard goes down hard, eyes closed, blood running down his temple. John quietly breathes a sigh of relief and bends down to pick-up the rifle in the guards hand and curses himself as the metal clanks against his own pistol loudly.

He chances a glance around the font of the tent and realizes that Aeryn has already taken out her guard. She kneels over him taking his rifle and the smaller pulse pistol that is holstered on his trousers. Their eyes meet and before there is time for any of the remaining guards to notice their presence they quickly sneak into the tent.

Five bunks line each side with a tactical table set up in the middle. Boots and pistols are set neatly besides the beds and there is a small lantern burning on the ground in the corner which John can only assume is there to keep the guards from killing themselves in the dark. The man upstairs is obviously watching their backs and John makes a mental note to thank God, wherever He is, for that little bit of luck as soon as they get the hell out of this situation safely. Aeryn is covered in sweat; hair matted to her forehead; early signs of heat delirium becoming more than just a fear. John grabs his canteen, uncapping it quietly and encouraging her to take a drink while the cadets are all, thankfully, sleeping heavily.

Aeryn quickly drinks and hands the canteen back as she begins to look over the sleeping children, testing herself, seeing if she can pick out her child. She suddenly stops, as if realizing the danger of the situation and begins looking at the name plates that line each bunk. She takes the right side and John takes the left. One after another, with no sign of a name that even resembles their daughters.

Shit, if they hadn't come into the wrong tent first. His plans always had a way of flying south way before the winter, why should this be any different?

Aeryn glances at him with hard eyes and he shrugs as they quietly make their way out of the first tent and back to the relative cover of the underbrush surrounding the camp site.

"Well, doesn't that frelling figure?" Aeryn whispers impatiently, the heat of moving around on such a warm planet mixing with her nerves, bringing her to the edge of reason. "Good choice. Start with the right tent. That was good John."

"I'm sorry. It was 50/50 baby and well, you know how my plans usually go." John sighs. "Besides, you were the strategy person here."

_Wrong move buddy._

"Strategy?" She hisses. "I didn't have much to work with!"

"No time, hardly any information, I know. I'm sorry," John wipes the sweat from her brow. "How're we holding up?"

"I'm fine. Lets move," Aeryn replies. Though she's not fine. He can tell.

Fifty microts later and they have un-armed and knocked out the guards in front of the other tent, while the two remaining guards laugh next to the fire about 20 metra's away. Their voices carry which is a relief to John, at least this way he can tell what they're doing and where they are, even if it does increase the chance of waking one of the cadets.

_Much easier to take out a small, tired kid in this situation than an armed guard, even if he is drunk._

Then again, these _are_ Peacekeepers he's dealing with, so the kid could more than likely kick his ass any day of the week.

- -

"What the _frell_ is taking them so long?" D'Argo whispers impatiently to Jothee as they lie on their bellies, rifles resting in front of them, on the ground facing the camp. The mostly dead underbrush doesn't provide much cover, but under the circumstances it would have to do.

He's been in tense situations before. He's asked a girl out and had to wait solar days for her answer to come across with a data chip. He's had to wait to get grades on lessons and projects. Hell, he's waiting right now on his acceptance into the Quantum Theory of Relative Space Flight School that he wants to attend next cycle on Preekna. But he has _never_ frelling waited through something like this.

His nerves are on edge and he wipes at the sweat trickling down the side of his nose with the back of his hand. It's so frelling hot on this planet and he was still having trouble catching his breath. Where the hell were his parents? It had been at least 300 microts since they had snuck off in the dark headed directly for the camp site and he hasn't seen or heard a sign of them since.

He was familiar with his mother's upbringing. He had heard stories and he had had tactical training, however, that never seemed to prepare him for how intimidating Peacekeeper soldiers looked when you saw them on duty. They're hard and dark and emotionless and they scare the hell out of him. He eyes the guards that are stationed in front of the tent he can see as they hold their position, rifles raised.

"Give them a bit," Jothee whispers reassuringly. "They've got two tents to check there, kid. It could be another hundred or so microts before we hear or see anything."

D'Argo looks over at Jothee, the Luxan's tankas hanging down his back, tattoo's representing his ever changing rank adorning his face. He wonders about Jothee's father, his namesake. He can't help but question if he'll ever be able to do the name justice. He's heard stories from J and from his mom and dad, and he hopes that someday he would be worthy of D'Argo's legacy.

His attention returns to the tent just in time to see his parents sneak around the sides and quickly take out both of the armed guards, grabbing the discarded weapons, and making their way inside.

He takes a deep breath, crossing his fingers behind his back; something he had learned from his father, and offers up a quick prayer that they can find Taly and get the hell out of the tent before the other guards realize that there is something very, very wrong.

- -

Aeryn snakes her way into the remaining tent, which is laid out similarly to the previous one. Tactical table, bunks spread orderly, and boots and weapons arranged neatly. This one is slightly smaller and the cadets appear to be just a little bit younger. Though, it is hard for her to tell.

She lifts her hand up to brush away a drop of sweat with her shaking fingers before it falls into her eyes. Frell it's hot on this planet, and as much as she tries to resist the discomfort, the effects of the heat are still painfully evident. She feels sluggish and jumpy all at the same time, and if they don't get out of the camp soon, she is sure that she is going to end up frelling something up and completely compromising their mission.

She glances quickly at John, his back is straight with resolve as he quietly walks over to the left wall of bunks, a PK rifle hanging from each shoulder with Winona clasped in his hand. She has no frelling idea what she would do without him. In fact, she's not sure that she would be at all without him.

Aeryn eyes the small girl lying on the bottom bed of the first bunk she walks over to and knows it's her daughter the second she sees the girl. Her face has hardly changed at all from the time she was a small child. Pale skin, freckles forming a path on her nose, flushed cheeks. She is deep in the throws of sleep and she looks completely peaceful. Aeryn resists every urge she feels swelling within her to take the girl in her arms and make sure she's real, make sure they've really gotten this far, and run like hell. Tears inadvertently well up in her eyes and she quickly reaches an angry fist up to wipe them away. She has frelling missed her child grow up. She didn't even have the chance to see her through childhood. The girl's hair is darker, sandy and golden at the same time. It's long and loose, framing her face as she sleeps, her body scrunched and curled for warmth. It's hot as hezmana here to her weary body, but the girl is small and chilled in sleep. Aeryn glances up at the name plate on the bed, just to verify that what her instincts are telling her is true.

_Talyse'un Sun Crichton, Second Level Cadet/Probation, Shyalk Unit._

Probation?

_Frell these bastards!_

They had not only taken her child, but they were keeping her separated from the others, totally opening her up to more mockery and exclusion than she was most likely already facing.

Aeryn tears her gaze away from the child, quickly looking up and whispering John's name to get his attention. He turns sharply with wide eyes and he is at her side in a microt, staring down at the girl, thumb on his lower lip. She can see the moisture welling up in his eyes and she knows that he is feeling as emotional as she is to finally see this child, their baby, for the first time in over seven cycles. Their eyes meet for just a microt, long enough to transfer emotions and words without actually saying anything and he motions for her to get the powder out and set their plan into action. They have to move quickly now, could be any microt when the guards they have attacked come to.

He kneels down behind the girls bunk, hands out and ready to clasp her mouth as soon as Aeryn has the powder in her palms and ready to use. Quick reflexes, like a flash of light, John covers the girls mouth with one hand, holding down her arms with the other. Without a microt's thought Aeryn blows the substance in her palm down on the girl, who looks up at her with wide, frightened, blue eyes and a muffled cry.

_What the frell are you doing to your child?_

A microt later, after several deep inhalations, the girl is out. She sleeps soundly like nothing has happened at all. John lifts her limp body easily out of the bed and rests her gently in his arms, Winona holstered safely at his side again and the rifles still in place over his shoulders.

Neither can help but stare at her, just for a microt, regardless of the precarious situation

Aeryn takes the lead, heading to the entrance of the tent quietly. Thankfully, not one of the cadets has roused from sleep besides their daughter. She slowly peaks her head out of the lined entrance making sure that the guards are still sprawled on the ground before them. She looks back to give John the all clear and they are out of the tent and making their way back to the underbrush listening to the break guards chattering and laughing all the way.

John sets Taly down on the hard ground, long enough to reach up and stroke Aeryn's face; to wipe at the sweat beaded on her cheeks, leaving a trail of grime behind.

"You okay baby? I know the heat is bad," he asks concerned.

"I'm fine, though I'm having a hard time believing this is actually happening." she chokes, gently stroking the girls face.

Aeryn glances at John as he stares at their daughter while a stray tear gently rolls down his cheek.

"Me neither," he whispers, fingers feathering a touch to the back of her hand as it rests on their daughters face. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm _fine_…let's just get the frell out of here" She replies as John lifts Taly easily back into his arms. "This way, follow me."

Aeryn leads them towards the area where they had parted with Jothee and D'Argo, moving as quickly as she can when she hears a sharp snap behind her. The sound of someone, or something, breaking a small stick. She stops instinctively and spins; her pistol in front of her as she comes face to face with male and female guards from the fire, each pointing a rifle. One at her and one at John and their daughter. They look completely sobered up from the sudden excitement and the impending dren they will face for letting one of their cadets get this far from camp.

"Drop your gun Officer Sun." The male guard instructs her coolly.

"She still famous after all this time?" John smirks, unable to keep his frelling mouth shut as usual. "You hear that honey? You're a star."

He bitterly laughs as he focuses his attention back on the guard, "Now you tell me something you arrogant Bastard. Why did you take my kid, my daughter?"

Aeryn never moves her pistol, never takes her eyes off of the guards.

The guard smiles as if he's been waiting for just the right chance to rub salt in this wound.

"We had to learn about your pathetic race somehow Crichton. Learn what would happen when a Sebacean..." he pauses, looking at Aeryn disdainfully, "..._decides_ to contaminate the race. See what kind of problems would come from mixing our genes with the likes of yours. See if she could provide any useful information about evolution or your history; wormholes. And it had to be the girl, no one could be sure that the boy was even yours."

"You self-righteous prick," John seethes.

"Turns out she was worthless, a waste of time, just like you Crichton. Must run in the family." The guard laughs. "An unfortunate half-breed, with no remarkable characteristics to speak of."

That's all it takes to push Aeryn over the edge. Before John can even glance at her she has the rifle cocked and her finger on the pulse trigger.

"I wouldn't move another dench if I were you _Officer_," The female guard says in a rigid tone, not even attempting to hide the apparent disdain. "Did you really think that you could come in and out of this camp that easily? You were a Peacekeeper, you know how things work around here. Now drop your weapon before I shoot it out of your hands."

Aeryn slowly lowers her pistol with one hand. The male soldier keeps his gun on point and walks towards John, his intentions clear.

"Give me the girl Crichton," he commands.

Her husband has no self control. "Not a _snowball's_ chance in HELL you bastard."

She hears the female guard cock her rifle and braces herself rigidly for an impact of some sort as she hears a shot spray out accompanied by a bright burst of light.

John drops to his knees beside her, Taly still held tightly in his arms. This is all happening so fast…wait, _is_ this happening?

_What is going on?_

John is her frelling life. She moves to the side, attempting to get to him as another shot rings out. More weapon fire accompanied by blazing light and she hunkers down again knowing that this one must be meant for her, but she doesn't feel anything. She looks over at her stunned husband before she looks back in the direction of the guards, both lying in a pool of blood. They were easy targets for D'Argo's pulse pistol and Jothee's blade as she sees them running towards her.

She drops down on her knees besides John, hands touching his face, hands touching her daughter. She has to feel both of them to make sure they're okay, make sure they are really here; that she's really still here. They're both unharmed, and he appears to be only shocked. John leans forward and kisses her desperately, the girl pressed between them, still completely unconscious.

"Are you okay? Tell me you're okay." he pleads in a panicked voice.

"I'm fine, are you okay? I saw you go down, I thought you were hit," she cries.

"I'm okay baby. It was just instinct. I didn't know who was shooting who, I was just trying to keep her out of the line of fire." He's all breath and nerves and she can't help but kiss him again, just to make sure he's really okay. She's been here before, and no matter how many times she finds herself faced with the possibility of losing him, it never hurts her any frelling less.

They stand up, and she grabs her son by the arms roughly pulling him in.

"How did you know? Where did you come from?" Aeryn says in a tightly wound voice.

"We were right behind you all the way Ma, we had you in view and we saw the soldiers coming, so we moved. Jothee took the flank and I had your side. As soon as she cocked her rifle I knew I had to take her out before it went any further." He's crying, more emotional than she's ever seen him before. She pulls him into a tight hug and kisses his cheek as John walks up besides them and kisses him on the side of the head.

"You obviously get your aim from me." Aeryn says, with a sly look to John who offers no argument on that point.

"We have to get out of here. Those other guards won't be out for long." Jothee says breathlessly as he sheaths his Qualta blade behind his back again, holding on to Aeryn's arm.

She nods with one more look at John, before she leans down to pick up her pulse pistol and they turn to run in the opposite direction back towards the Luxan camp, towards their ship, and towards safety.

- -

"_Forward motion is harder than it sounds, every time I gain some ground I've gotta turn myself around again."_

A little over an arn later and the weary crew are making their way back to the seeming shelter of the small Luxan camp.

"Why is it still so fucking hot here? It's the middle of the night, cut us some slack," John mutters through the darkness. He is drenched with sweat. He can taste its saltiness on his upper lip and feel it as it trickles down his forehead. His arms are sore and he's not sure how much longer he can ignore the burning. He's had the girl in practically the same position since the scare with the guards. Something about the exhilaration of having her so close makes the pain slightly more bearable, but the heat is just making him aggravated. Aeryn is stumbling along now, and his son isn't doing much better. Even though the heat doesn't affect him like it does his mother, he isn't immune to it.

"We're almost there, not much further now." Jothee says, turning his head to look at them. He stops suddenly when he catches sight of Aeryn, roughly stumbling to the ground, falling hard on her knees.

John hears the noise and turns instinctively, every nerve on edge. He rushes back to her side, kneeling with the girl still in his arms, his face denches from hers.

"Aeryn, what's wrong?" his voice is thick with concern and exhaustion. "Is it the heat?"

All he gets in return is a half nod.

_Of course it's the heat you fucking moron! Genius John. Brilliant._

They have to get back to the camp and get her into a cool tent and they have to do it now.

"D', you got any water left there buddy?" He asks his son, looking up to catch the concern in the boy's eyes. "She's okay, we've just gotta get her back."

D'Argo takes his canteen and opens the cap, kneeling besides his mother and pouring the few remaining drops in her mouth.

"I've got her," Jothee says, easily lifting her sagging body into his strong arms.

"Hang in there baby, we are _so_ close now," John whispers over her face before they pick up their pace and continue the march.

- -

Two hundred microts later and John has settled his daughter on a bed mat, while attempting to poor more water down his half-sleeping wife's throat. He _has_ to get her hydrated, one way or another.

The tents are small, but they're cooler than the outside air. John's not sure how the Luxans have accomplished such a feat, but then he doesn't really give a damn at this point. As long as it helps Aeryn get back on her feet. They can't hang around long, there's no way. Some of the other guards could catch their trail like a pack of well trained hunting dogs and be on their asses in no time flat.

Jothee and the rest of his small squad immediately start packing up the camp site, loading any trace of their presence back into their large ship while D' sits down to catch his breath. John watches his son; wiping his sweat drenched hair and glancing tentatively at his sister with a soft, almost sad, look in his blue eyes. Possibly remembering her as a toddler, playing with her, or holding her hand?

John follows his gaze to the sleeping child. She is so beautiful, still their perfect little girl.

He rubs his thumb up the side of Aeryn's face, trying to softly nudge her out of her sleep like state. Trying to judge how badly the heat has affected her.

"Baby, we've gotta go. We can't hang around much longer." He says with concern, trying to meet her wandering eyes.

"I feel like dren…I don't know if I can stand…" Aeryn slurs, her cheeks flushed.

"Yeah, you can. I know you can." He says with more liveliness than he feels. "Come on, let's blow this joint and get home."

He takes her hand, gently pulling her up to a sitting position and motioning for his son.

"D' how you feeling?" He speaks carefully to keep his voice from shaking.

"I'm fine dad. A little hot, but fine," he assures as he hoists up his pack and several rifles. John leaves Aeryn sitting uncertainly on the mat and walks over to face his son.

He lays his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm giving you the keys here D'. I need you to take the Prowler, fly you and your mom back to Moya,"

"Keys?" D'Argo questions, wondering if he had perhaps missed that part of flight training over the years.

"Just, I need you to control the Prowler, fly it home, keeping both of you safe. Can you do that?"

"Yeah dad," John can sense his son's frustration. "I can fly the Prowler back; I've been flying that thing since I was a kid."

John pats him on the shoulder. "I know you can. I know. I have to hop on the other ship with Jothee and the boys there and make sure that, _if_ your sister wakes up, she doesn't lose it too badly."

"No offense, but if I woke up with your face staring down at me; I'd probably be a little scared too," D'Argo jokes. John is always amazed at how his boy never seems to lose his sense of humor.

"You're gonna have to help your mom back to the ship. The heat is bad." He glances at Aeryn as she leans forward, her cheeks bright pink, eyes half open, but not really focusing on anything.

D' is quick to reassure him. "I know. I will."

"Okay, you both get the hell out of here then, got it?" John states lifting his gear.

D' gingerly approaches his mother, kneeling down to get her attention and John watches Aeryn cup his face, a hint of recognition and logic coming back to her tired eyes. He easily goads her into standing up and helps her walk with her arm draped over his wide shoulders, his hands clasping hers on the other side.

"Fly safe," John calls as they slip out of the small tent. His son looks back at him with a knowing glance. He's heard the story, and he understands the meaning behind his father's words.

A slight nod and they are quickly heading back towards the docked Prowler.

With one weight temporarily lifted, John focuses on the second. He has to get his daughter up and on the ship without waking her. He's not sure what will happen when that point comes, but he knows he's not ready to face it yet. And he's definitely not ready to face it without Aeryn by his side. The powder was mixed to keep her out for about 3 arns, enough time to get back to safety aboard Moya. At this point he can only hope that she comes to later rather than sooner.

- -

Aeryn stumbles along, following the pace that her son has set as he practically drags her forward. She feels weak and light-headed. Every bit of activity adds to the discomfort that the heat brings her. Too much heat and too much movement compounded together makes for a nearly unbearable situation.

It's all coming at her in a blur, she can't tell if she's dreaming or if she's awake. The misty haze covering everything in her line of vision is throwing her off.

Did any of this really happen? Did they have their daughter, or was this just another one of her torturous dreams made worse by some kind of sickening heat?

They pass quickly by a stump of a bush and the edge of her boot catches on a root. She begins to careen forward in slow motion, but she doesn't fall far before she feels strong arms gripping her around the waist.

Aeryn sees her son in front of her, what is he doing here? Where is John?

"D'Argo, where's your father?" she asks, confused. Her head is spinning. The world is spinning.

"Come on, we have to go," D'Argo whispers, his voice laden with concern. "I know you're feeling like dren Ma, but we have to hurry."

He is all encouragement and concern, and she feels like her stomach is creeping up in her throat. She can't hold a complete thought and she feels sick.

She is sick.

She needs to be sick.

Before she can even process another thought she pushes away from D'Argo; leaning forward and clutching at her stomach as it lurches violently. She can't catch her breath, and she can't control the spasms.

"Ma, come on. Let it out," her son encourages, brushing some stray hair from her face.

All of a sudden, she is floating unsupported, weightless. She falls the rest of the way to the ground her elbows hitting hard, skin scraping and tearing against the rough surface. She weakly supports her head, barely keeping it from hitting the rocky surface. Where's D'Argo now? What the _frell_ is going on?

She slowly turns her head, moving as far as she can before the pain stops her, where she sees one of the Peacekeeper guards holding a pulse pistol to the side of her son's head, eyes focused intently on her with a look of disgust.

"Where is the girl, Officer Sun?" The guard sneers. Why isn't the heat affecting him like it is her?

"I don't…know…" She sputters between rigid breaths. Every movement is like torture, stretching and pulling muscles and nerves in directions they surely shouldn't go.

"The frell you don't!" the guard says in a mocking tone. "Tell me where she is. Tell me where Crichton is and maybe I'll let your boy here keep one of his eyes."

D'Argo is angry and wrestling in the guard's arms. She wants to yell at him to stop, stop moving and tempting the man to act on his word, but she doesn't have the energy. In fact, she doesn't have the strength to hold herself up any longer. She can feel the darkness encroaching on her mind and no matter how hard she tries to remember where her pulse pistol is, no matter how hard she tries to hold her eyes open, she can't.

The last thing she's aware of before everything goes completely dark is the sound of her head hitting the ground with a sickening thud.


	9. Chapter 8: Flying in to Daybreak

**_Part 2_**

CHAPTER 8

**_Flying into Daybreak_**

Three hundred microts later, Jothee and his crew have the entire camp packed and John carries his daughter and all of their remaining equipment to the ship. He lies the girl down on a bench in the passenger compartment of the ship. Luckily this Luxan-built ship is much more equipped for traveling with more passengers. It isn't cramped and uncomfortable like the Prowler and there is room for the gear and for John to gently set Taly down. Only two of Jothee's men have boarded the vessel with them. H'tna and Myann having remained planet side with their small ship to remove any traces of the small camp.

He sits, looking down at the girl as the vessel hums to life, preparing to leave the dusty, hellish planet. Finally, not a moment too soon as far as John is concerned.

The girl is still sleeping, though there is more motion under her eyelids now. He reaches down to her forehead, gently brushing her hair to the side with his fingers. He studies her, looks her over completely. He can't tell for sure if she's been injured or abused. Fuck the bastards if that's the case. He'll find them and fucking kill them all. He'll shove all of their cocky faces so far into the ground that they'll never see the light of day again.

S_he looks like her mother. _

Strong features, beautiful, muscular even in her youth.

"How we doing back there?" John hears Jothee call from the cockpit of the ship as they prepare to head back into space.

"Snug as a bug in a rug," John mumbles, still unable to take his eyes off his daughter.

He is lost in thought; transported to some other time, some other place.

Jothee throws a curious look over his shoulder towards his friend and turns his attention back to the controls.

John feels the ship shifting into hyper speed and breaking through the atmosphere in a whir of light and sound.

Just enough light and sound, apparently, to rattle the girl out of sleep.

"Oh shit," John drawls as her eyes slowly open, bright blue, matching his own.

Her movement is sluggish, as if the effects of the powder are wearing thin. She opens her eyes, a confused expression on her face.

"Hi," John whispers, his voice a mixture of amazement and nerves.

The girl sits up fast, pushing herself back against the seat, limbs moving fluidly in the black leather like she was born wearing it. Her eyes are wide with fear and uncertainty.

"Where am I? Who the frell are you?" the words spill out of her mouth like bullets from a machine gun. And her voice, hearing his daughter's voice hits him like one.

John's voice, however, is lost to him. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to respond. This isn't the way it was supposed to go down. He and Aeryn were going to confront her together, make her understand the situation. They would hug and kiss and be one big fucking happy family. Damn it.

Her hand quickly reaches down to where her holster and pistol should be and John watches her look nervously at the empty spot, immediately noticing its absence.

"It's not there, probably back hanging on your bunk kiddo," he says, words finally coming to him as he gauges a reaction so similar to those Aeryn used to have when they had first met that it jars his tired mind.

"Tell me who you are," she questions, her timid voice rising. "Why did you take me!" She's been trained as a soldier, trained to handle all kinds of situations, trained to react as emotionlessly as possible in any given predicament. But, he can see the fear and panic rising as her neck gets red and her cheeks flush. Her eyes are moist and she's on the verge of losing every bit of that training, that hardness that was instilled upon her.

"Umm, well, where should I even start, this is gonna sound crazy I'm sure. Hell, it is crazy; no getting around that," John rattles on, unsure of where to go. Shit, he might as well just spill it at this point. No sense in beating around the damn bush when she's sitting right in front of him. "I'm your Dad…it's been a long time Taly."

She looks at him curiously, her eyes showing a glimpse of recognition at the nickname that he was sure hadn't carried over to her time with the Peacekeepers. He reaches out to take her hand, try to explain some more, but before he knows what's hit him the girl has kicked him upside the head and he's gone down like a ton of fucking bricks.

"Shit!" John exclaims as she is up and moving towards the far rear of the small craft.

He sits up and rubs at his head. How the hell did this girl get so strong? She's a tiny little thing.

Taly stops suddenly as she comes to face the two Luxans blocking her passage to the cargo hold. She backs up, right into John's waiting arms. He grasps her around her middle, holding her arms to her sides. She wouldn't one up him again.

Her breathing is heavy and ragged; fear and determination seem to be brewing right under the surface, threatening to break out. She's sweating, almost to the point of panic.

"Luxans? What are you, Mercenaries?" She asks incredulously, her blue eyes wide with uncertainty and probably some sort of shock.

Sash and Bruye glance at each other, not sure whether to step in or just leave the awkwardness between father and daughter.

"Don't worry about this guys, I have this _all_ the way under control. We're good," John states with way more confidence than he feels.

The girl is so small in his arms, still so small. He holds on to her longer than he needs to, letting the feel of her in his arms work its way back into his brain.

This is really happening. This time they really have her.

Taly struggles against his grasp, but now that John's got her without the element of surprise on her side, her small body is no match for him. He picks her up from behind sitting his ass hard on the seat with her on his lap, never loosening his grip. He moves one hand up to cover her mouth, just so he can get a damn word in edgewise.

Her breaths come quick now and her body is completely tense. She's just waiting for the opportunity when she can strike out and gain the advantage back from him.

She is a spitfire, his little girl, just like her mom. It seems that the concept of him being twice her size is lost on her.

"Now, you listen, and listen good Talyse'un Sun Crichton. I'm not gonna hurt you. These big fella's aren't gonna hurt you. I came to take you home. We came to take you back to where you're supposed to be." He slowly loosens his grip on her mouth.

"I know you can't have forgotten everything."

"My mother and father are dead," She mumbles, emotionless, void of any hint of feeling. It sounds like the line has been pounded into her head with a hammer and a chisel.

_So, this is the load of bull shit that they've been feeding her. _

She's a kid, of course, why would she have any reason to doubt the people that were raising her?

"Well kiddo, I'm right here…in the flesh, and I'm telling you I'm pretty much as alive as it gets at this point," John replies.

Tears softly roll over his hand. She's crying. She's broken and confused and he has no idea how to make her realize what the truth about her life is. No idea how to make her feel safe again.

One more quick, burst of a struggle and her energy is gone. John continues to hold her tightly, as much to keep her still as it is a sign to her and himself that she is really in his arms. She smells of leather, sweat, and that sweet scent of a child. As the realization of what he's missed washes over him again, he feels like one of the last whole pieces of his heart is about to shatter.

"Almost there…" Jothee calls back in a soft voice.

John sits still in the chair, feeling his daughter breathe against his chest as he sees Moya coming into view out the small oval window. They are almost home, and maybe Aeryn can find the appropriate words for this fucked up situation, he knows she remembers this way of life. Maybe seeing her mother will be the key to unlocking Taly's memory from so long ago, if it's still there.

They spend the rest of the journey in silence. No noise except the sound of the ship as it meets with the docking web; the sound of his daughter's steady breaths.

No noise but the sound of his own heart as it threatens to beat right out of his chest.

- -

Shaking. She can't stop the shaking. It's like an uncontrollable tremor in the midst of a blazing heat storm. Aeryn can't remember anything more miserable. But then, she can't really remember anything beyond the past fifty microts so that doesn't really speak for much.

She can feel the rough surface of the ground on her back; tiny pebbles and sharp rocks that chafe overly sensitive skin through the rips of her shirt. She still can't gather the strength to open her eyes, however, but she knows she has to. She can taste her fear as it threatens to overwhelm her and she hears the crackling of an unfamiliar comms device. This isn't where she is supposed to be, that much she knows, and that might be the only thing.

Aeryn musters all of the remaining strength she can and tries to move her arms, but they don't budge. She can feel tightly wrapped leather cut into her wrists and hot blood trickle down into the palms of her hands.

_Frell, open your eyes Aeryn. Open your eyes and find out where you are._

She takes a deep breath and coughs quietly as she peers out through shaking lids right into the center of a fire. She can feel the blistering heat close to her side and her stomach lurches as relief washes over her when she takes in the view beyond the fire.

_Why the frell has he built a fire?_

She sees D'Argo sitting on a rock, working on his lessons while her little Jack sleeps soundly on a blanket to his left. John is standing by a tent where he seems to be gathering some items to toss in a kettle by the fire.

_Wait, that's not right._

_Why is Jack here?_

_John…_

She opens her mouth to call his name but she can't speak; feels like she's swallowed a mouthful of dust. She's so tired. She can't seem to wrap her mind around the images in front of her, but she knows what she's seeing can't be real.

_Can it?_

They can talk later, after he's finished doing what ever it is he is doing. They have all the time in the world.

She blinks hard to clear the dark edges of her vision and starts at the scene before her.

She sees the blond curls as her small daughter comes running out of the tent, clinging to her father's legs. He laughs and stumbles for effect before he sweeps her off of her feet and into the air above his head. Aeryn closes her eyes again as she listens to the melodious laugh of her baby.

Time isn't making any sense. Everything is out of place and her head feels like it's filled with air and nothing more.

_**None **of this makes any sense._

She closes her eyes attempting to gather her roaming thoughts.

"This is Strass. I'm going to need some back up out here. Get your frelling eema's up and come help me, you lazy pieces of dren."

Aeryn hears a man's gruff voice, not one she recognizes. She strains to open her eyes again, only to come to the realization that she and D'Argo are still bound with restraints on the rough ground where the guard had found them. There is no fire, no John, nothing but darkness and heat.

"I've got Sun and the boy. She's down like a limp goulan and he's being a pain in my eema. I don't have time for this dren, and there is no way I'm going to be able to get them both back to camp, so I'm going to need some help and I need it now Trayn."

She wiggles her wrists against the tight leather again, only to feel it cut deeper into her skin, drawing more blood.

Aeryn pushes against sore ribs and sighs as deeply as she can before weakly turning towards where she _thinks_ she remembers D'Argo sitting. Her brain surprises her by actually remember something, even if it's not much, it has to be a start. She opens her mouth to get his attention, but can only gape silently as she sees another D'Argo come over and sit beside the first. She whimpers as she turns her head to look back to where she saw John and her daughter, only to find two more replicas of her son.

She quickly turns her head as the muscles in her neck pull sharply as she looks back to the rock to find Scorpius and John sitting where her son was moments before. They are looking at her; talking and laughing but she can't make out a word they're saying.

_This is wrong, this is all wrong._

Her breathing quickens and her heard is spinning as it roughly falls back to the ground and she finally finds her voice.

"What the _frell_ is going on?" she cries.

She has just enough time to see the guard drop his comms device, apparently startled by the sudden noise, and turn towards her as the butt of his gun hits her square in the side of the head.

- -

"A drink, that's what I need. I need a drink, and a slice of Mom's lasagna, and a good game of poker," John mumbles out loud to himself. "Or maybe just the drink; I could do with just the drink."

"What the hezmana are you going on about?" Jothee asks over his shoulder as they slowly unload the ship.

John hasn't let go of the girl, and he doesn't have any intention of doing so until she's safely in her quarters and she and her mom can have a good heart to heart. Speaking of Aeryn, he had thought that she and D' would be biting at the bit for them to get back. He's a bit surprised that they're not waiting with a sign to welcome him aboard.

"Pilot, where's the little lady?" He asks over his comms.

"Welcome back on board Commander," Pilot states dryly. "Jothee, it is good to have you back."

Never breaking from his task, Jothee responds, "Good to be here Pilot."

"Officer Sun and D'Argo has not been in range of a docking web yet, Commander."

Pilot continues, "I have not heard any correspondence from the Prowler since you left nearly two solar days ago."

"What the hell?" John says, trying to stay calm as he heads out of the hanger. He's walking at a brisk pace towards the girl's quarters, but this news is unsettling and he abruptly changes directions. He's grasping her hand, practically pulling her along behind him as she gapes at the huge ship.

"Ouch, you're hurting me!" she exclaims from behind him, trying to wriggle her hand out of his tight grasp.

"I'm sorry Little Bit, sometimes I don't know my own strength." His mind is racing and his body seems to follow suit.

_Where the hell are Aeryn, and D'Argo?_

John makes his way quickly to Command so he can get his hands on the live comms and try to contact them off ship. They had to be out there somewhere close. They couldn't have left that long after Jothee's ship.

"What the frell is this?" The girl asks still gawking behind him.

"You've never been on a Leviathan before?" John questions with a hint of surprise.

"A Leviathan? No, I've only learned about them in class. It's huge…" she trails off, too shocked to be angry or rebellious.

"Yep, she's a monster," He says patting a warm bulkhead as they walk on. "A good monster, but a monster no less."

He swipes his hand over the door pad and the panel whirs open while Command spreads before them with the open view of space.

The girl seems to have temporarily forgotten about her precarious situation and looks overwhelmed with Moya. John looks at Taly, noticing her curiosity and distraction and he lets go of her hand, figuring he's safe for at least a few microts. He walks over to the communicator and immediately attempts to make contact with the Prowler.

"They're not in range Commander. Moya and I have attempted to locate the transmitter numerous times." Pilot's voice is slightly aggravated as he appears on the clamshell behind John.

Taly walks over and stands in front the holographic device, staring mesmerized.

"Where the hell are they? They took off at least 300 microts before us," John mumbles to himself.

He paces as he attempts to send out a transmission, regardless of the doubt he feels brewing in his chest.

"D'Argo, can you hear me? Aeryn? You guys out there?" He asks, his voice beginning to rise to its "slightly below panic" tone.

"D' if I find out that this is a joke, a good natured little prank; I hope you know that your ass is mine when you get back on this ship." His panic is now mixing with anger. "I'm not messing around here son."

He moves his face closer to the viewer, as if the proximity will help him get his message out.

"Aeryn, come in. I need to know your location," He yells, the end of the sentence tapering off to more of a mumbled whisper.

He turns around just in time to see Taly beginning to tinker with the console controls.

"Don't…" he begins grabbing her small hands, "…touch _anything_."

It comes out harsher than he means it to, and the girl pulls her hand away quickly.

"What are you looking for anyways?" She questions, the anger returning to her voice. "Who the frell are you yelling at?"

"I'm sorry." John murmurs, realizing that he's let his anxiety get the best of him. "It's your mom and your brother. They're not here and they should be. They left before we did."

"My mother is alive?" she says looking up at him in relative awe. "She wasn't here. I just figured that she was…well…"

John roughly rubs at the nape of his neck, "She's as alive as I am kiddo. Now where the hell she is, that's a different question entirely."

_This situation is like a bad soap opera on crack._

"…ad…an you hear…ee?" A jumbled transmission cracks through on the comms.

"Shit!" John runs back to the navigational tracking screen as annoying static crackles through the device.

His answer is immediate. "_D'argo_ where the _hell_ are you?"

"Dad, I'm in the Prowler. We're on our way. I just picked up your transmission," he hears his son say in a relieved voice.

John leans his head into his palm, taking in a deep breath as he feels the heavy weight of uncertainty lift from his shoulders.

The relief, however, doesn't alleviate the frantic tone of his voice. "What the hell happened, D'? Are you okay? Is your mom?"

"We're fine…we're okay. We had a little bit of a, well, we got hung up a bit," D' replies over the comms breathlessly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Let me talk to Aeryn," He says in as demanding a voice as he can muster given his overwhelming feelings of relief.

"She's kinda out of it right now Dad," He says. "Let me just get us back and I'll explain everything, okay?"

"Right, just hurry it up. Get back here in one piece." John turns back to glance at Taly, but she's no where to be seen.

_So, this is how things could get more screwed._

He should never have tempted fate.

"_Fuck_ me," he moans, his palm smacking his forehead as he turns to run out of the room. He stops short in the corridor, looking both ways. "If I were an eleven year old girl, where the hell would I go? The fucking mall?"

He heads towards the transport hanger as he reconsiders his question. If _Aeryn_ were in a situation like this, eleven years old or now, where would she go?

"She'd try to get the hell off this ship and back to her duty, back to something that makes sense. That's what she'd do."

John starts as the answer becomes painfully obvious.

A transport pod.

He takes off as fast as his legs can carry him. If he doesn't stop her before she has a chance to leave Moya, this situation is going to go straight to hell.


	10. Chapter 9: You're So Much Like Me

_**You're so much like me, and I'm sorry**_

John sits down hard on one of the fuel barrels that lie by the old transport pod. It's quiet on this deck, aside from the normal moaning and whirring of the living ship beneath his feet and all around him. Meanwhile, Jothee and his crew load their own ship with provisions down the corridor.

"Fuck me. Of all the absolutely insane situations - just when I think I've seen it all. Shit," He mumbles to himself, drumming his fingers against his jaw line. He's unable to find a suitable variety of curse words to accurately describe his frustration with the current situation, and he silently apologizes to his mother for his language as he tries.

He hears the faint, rhythmic pattern of boots growing louder as they move down the corridor and carry his daughter directly in to the landing deck where he's sitting. Taly comes to a sudden halt in front of him, out of breath and ragged looking.

"Well little lady, how did you enjoy your self-guided tour of Moya?" John questions, barely containing his sarcasm.

"How did you know I would come here?" She asks breathlessly.

"Well, simple deduction really; if you're anything like your mom, and you are, then I figured you'd be trying to catch the next bus out of town and back to Peacekeeper...ville." John says. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for just a microt; any longer and he might lose her again.

"You know what? I don't know how to make you understand this Taly," John stands and kneels to his daughter's level, right in her face, eye to eye.

"We want you here. You were taken from us, by no choice of ours. This is where you belong."

"If you really cared about me, you'd get out of my way and let me get off this frelling beast of a ship," Taly snaps at him.

_Damn she has a way with words for such a young kid. _

She continues: "If you really cared, you would never have taken me in the first place! If you really cared, you would never have let me GO."

"Hey, hey now; if there were any way in the universe that we could have kept that from happening, we would have. We missed half of your life, we didn't see you grow up, we never got a chance to…to do a whole lot of things," John replies uncertainly. He can't tell if he's angry, hurt, or what the hell he is at this point. Looking at her is still jarring and at the same time such a relief, but her mouth and her attitude are going to be something to over come.

_Time to shift gears._

"Do you know how long we've been looking for you?" He softly inquires.

"I don't care how long you've been looking," Taly asserts. There is no emotion besides the small sign of tears that he can see gathering at the corner of her eyes. "You've been wasting your time."

John sighs, looking down at the floor and rubbing the back of his neck. "Come with me."

"Why should I do that?" she asks.

He's all business now, his wife and son are unaccounted for, and his daughter is like a mini-version of Peacekeeper paranoia to the extreme.

"Now, come on," John stands and holds his hand out for her as he notices the defeat evident on her face. Out of options; she follows behind him reluctantly looking at the ground, muttering under her voice and never making contact.

He guides Taly directly to her quarters, neatly arranged and cleaned for her possible arrival. Palming the door pad, he walks his daughter into the warm room.

"Come on in tadpole, the water's fine. This is yours, all of this." He makes a sweeping gesture around the small room with his hands. "It ain't a command carrier, but I think you'll get used to it."

She looks around, taking in her surroundings, resignation shadowing her blue eyes.

"Make yourself at home. I've got to go and make sure your mom and brother are on their way in," he says, exhaustion suddenly creeping into his voice.

Taly turns to him as he walks out of the room. "You can't keep me in here," she objects.

The door shuts with a clank and their eyes meet between the grates.

"Listen, I am SO glad that we finally found you and got you back safely, I can't even begin to tell you how glad I am. But let's get one thing straight here kiddo, I'm your dad, and I can do what ever I feel like I need to do. And right now, you're staying in here while I go and try not to let anything else get screwed up. Okay?"

John speaks into his com: "Pilot, make sure the little lady doesn't leave her quarters please."

He catches her eyes again, and for the first time adrenaline appears to have given way to fear. She looks tired and scared.

"It's gonna be okay, I promise," he utters with as much certainty as he can before he turns to go.

John makes his way slowly down the corridor. "Damn," he mumbles. This was a hell of a lot harder than he had ever dreamt it was going to be. He jams his hands into his pockets and occupies them with the loose threads at the seams in an effort to calm his nerves.

"Commander, the Prowler is currently being pulled in by the docking web," he hears Pilot's voice ring out over the comms.

"About damn time," he mutters under his breath as he picks up his pace to a steady jog down the dimly lit corridor. "Thanks, Pilot!"

His head is aching and his nerves are on edge; and until he sees his son and has his wife in a tight hold he's pretty sure that the feeling is going to get worse before it gets better.

- -

_Aeryn smoothes the girl's hair. It's so soft in her fingers, silky, reminiscent of fine material from a far away planet. Like a treasure, something that should be worth currency._

_The light glimmers off of it like the reflection of a sun through a window as it catches and bounces off of the glassy surface._

_John walks into the room slowly, cautiously, as if his very movements will break the sheen of calm that rests over the small vigil._

_He rests his hand on Aeryn's forehead, but it hurts to the touch. A sharp pain, like someone is pushing right through the bone and into her very nerves. She lifts her hand to brush his away. _

_He has to stop touching her._

"_I'm leaving," he states, emotionless, uncaring. "I'm leaving and I don't know if I'm coming back. I have to go. I'm sorry." _

_He turns to walk out of the room._

"_Wait, where are you going?" She questions with concern. Why is he leaving and what the frell does he mean he might not be coming back? "John, don't you walk away from me!"_

_She gets up to follow him into the corridor, but he's already gone. Vanished like a vision from a dream._

"_FRELL you, John! You can't just walk away like that! Not after all this time, you COWARD! I gave up EVERYTHING for you, for this!" She exclaims with a sweeping gesture of her arms. She doesn't know why she's angry, she's not sure what she's saying, and she doesn't know why he's gone, but she does know that she's crying as she turns, aimlessly searching the corridors for his presence, knees weak with heat and uncertainty._

_Moya is moving around her, she's getting smaller, colder…warmer? She's not sure, but it's uncomfortable whatever it is._

_Her head continues to ache._ _She reaches up to rub at it, but the mere touch makes her flinch in pain._

_All of the sudden the girl is standing before her, radiating heat and anger. _

_Her daughter is so small, yet she looms ominously in front of Aeryn's body, steely gaze locked on her face, shiny, black pulse pistol pointed directly at her chest._

"_What are you doing?" Aeryn asks reaching her hand out towards her daughter right as the girl's finger moves to pull the trigger. The pulse of light bursts in front of her like an explosion._

Aeryn wakes with a start, crammed behind her son in the Prowler. She's sweating and sick and so damned tired.

"What's going on?" She sputters hoarsely.

"We're almost back to Moya, Ma. Don't move. You've got a bit of a bump on the head. Just sit back and hold tight until we make it," D'Argo urges soothingly.

But she doesn't hear all of his words. As soon as she takes in the sound of his voice, she can feel herself fading. She's falling, falling back into darkness, and the scariest thing about it is that she doesn't mind at all.

- -

John paces erratically, back and forth, waiting for the docking web to pull the Prowler in to the safety of Moya. Jothee is off to his side, out of his path, insistent upon seeing if he can be of any help before he takes off with his small crew.

"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer," John begins to sing in a muffled, off-key voice. His nerves are getting the best of him.

"Let's not start one of your sing-a-longs now okay?" Jothee says with a smirk.

"Sorry, It's just…is time passing extra slowly these days or is it just me?" John looks at Jothee, a questioning look in his ragged, tired eyes.

"Just you my friend," Jothee replies. "But then again, you always have been a bit on the crazy side." With a swift, firm pat on the back Jothee follows John's eyes and they both catch sight of the Prowler as it comes in to view.

It's gently pulled in to land firmly by the web, the air locks swinging shut behind it as John quickly palms the door pad and rushes forward, safety be damned. He needs to make sure they are okay, needs to see it with his own baby blues, no barriers between them.

The top hatch of the Prowler slowly whirs open and John can see his son's head over the rising surface as D'Argo stands in the cockpit, but John doesn't see Aeryn.

"D' what the hell happened!" he questions frantically as he pulls his son into his arms with a firm grasp. God, why did he find himself having to touch people to make sure they were really in front of him these days?

"They found us Dad, one of the guards, caught up with us right as we were getting ready to take off. We were so close," D'Argo says between nervous breaths.

Jothee walks up behind them and pats D'Argo on the back, taking his gear and setting it down on the floor. "Take a load off little man."

John focuses his attention on Aeryn who is slumped down in the rear seat.

"What's wrong? What happened to her?" he asks frantically to no one in particular as he hurriedly makes his way into the cockpit, leaning her back against the seat. He feels her face and eyes the massive gash on her forehead as it continues to bleed through a makeshift bandage.

"Wake up baby, come on now." He's rubbing her warm, flushed cheeks trying to removes some of the dirt and blood.

_She's a damned mess. _

"She passed out. She hit the ground hard. I didn't even have a chance to do anything, to try and stop her," John hears his son say quietly with resignation and guilt in his voice. "I couldn't move, the frelling guard had a gun to my head. I couldn't stop her from falling and then the bastard hit her with his pistol. I thought we were dead."

D'Argo is visibly shaken, and John looks down at him as Jothee rests a hand on the boy's shoulder. John quickly hoists Aeryn up out of her seat. She's as limp as a rag doll and as light as a feather as she falls easily into his arms. She is still _so_ hot, he can feel the heat blazing through her leather. He has to get her into a cold bath; has to clean her off, make sure that she's going to be okay.

_Can't lose her, not now._

He stops short in front D'Argo, "How in the _hell_ did you get out of there?"

"I was smaller and quicker than the guard, and some of the moves that Ma showed me really came in handy. I'm not sure how I did it, but somehow I got out of the restraints and I got him to the ground as he was seriously considering putting a pulse blast through my head for freeing my hands." D'Argo holds out his blood-stained wrists to emphasize his point.

"His shot missed. I got the gun and well, my shot, it didn't miss. But Mom didn't fair so well. The guard had some kind of heat draining device attached to his belt. I took it from him and tried to get it attached to her waist, but I didn't have time to look it over when I couldn't seem to get it working. I was afraid we wouldn't have another chance. It was obviously too late by then anyways. I'm sorry Dad." D'Argo rattles without as much as a breath and glances at Aeryn.

John is quick to reassure his son. "Whoa, this is not your fault D'. If it weren't for you, you might both be lying there dead right now. You did well. I'm proud of you."

He can see tears in his son's eyes, even as D'Argo holds himself stiff with the effort to hold them back. Trying to be brave as usual, not let John see how terrified he must be

John lays his hand on the back of the boy's neck, trying to provide some comfort in the familiar touch. "Get your stuff and try to get some rest.

"And check on your brother; make sure he's okay, sleeping hopefully. I'm gonna try to get your mom cooled off before we get any worse here."

D'Argo nods at him as Jothee helps him pick up the rest of the gear, and they head out of the landing bay.

John turns in the opposite direction, towards his and Aeryn's quarters. His heart is beating triple time, he's sweating, and he's _so_ damn scared. It has been so long since he's been in a situation where he's had to seriously consider what he would do if he lost her. The thought scares him to death before he even has a chance to consider the reality. He holds her tighter to his chest, kissing her forehead.

He palms the door pad to open their quarters and lies her down gently on the bunk. Quickly he removes her boots and weapons, pants and shirt. Checking her over thoroughly to make sure there aren't any injuries on the outside that he has missed; looking over every inch of her exposed skin, touching her softly.

Aside from the gash on her forehead and her wrists and the torn skin on her elbows he doesn't see anything external. He knows that the heat and her head are what must be affecting her so badly.

John jumps up, every move exaggerated by panic and haste, and turns on the water in the tub. He needs it cool and deep enough for him to submerge her completely. He's not sure why it's taking such a damn long time for her to cool off. It's like the heat has grabbed on from inside and is completely unwilling to let go.

_An unrelenting parasite._

If only they had found out about the PK heat draining device before they started this, perhaps it would have turned out differently.

_No sense in thinking about the "what-ifs" now._

The tub fills quickly and he gently lifts her back into his arms where she belongs and carries her, easing her slowly into the cool water. It ripples and moves around her, but she remains completely still, a stark contrast to the fluid movement of the water. Her eyes don't even show a sign of flinching under the soft skin of the lids.

John grabs a drying cloth, setting it behind her head for padding and a rag to wash the detritus away, paying close attention to the cut on her head. He dabs at it, wiping away the drying blood and putting pressure on the part of the wound that is still bleeding slightly.

_How much blood has she lost? _

D'Argo had managed to get a dirty scrap of rag tied to her head, but there is still blood all over her face, her clothes, and it is still trickling though just slightly.

John holds the cloth tight, rubbing her cheek softly with his opposite thumb.

"Come on Aeryn, open your eyes, say something, tell me how stupid this plan was, anything," he sighs, checking the water temperature and feeling her head. She is slowly starting to cool off, but she is not waking up.

John rests his head on the side of the tub, and a tear unwillingly falls down his cheek, landing on the hard surface of the basin. It cripples him to realize how scared he is of losing her. He is done, emotionally and physically. He is exhausted.

His motions are calculated, and his head is heavy. He doesn't lift it from its perch as he continues to wet the rag and wipe her clean. Her arms, her stomach, her face, her cheeks, her legs. Not one inch of her goes uncared for.

Pressing the rag to her forehead as the bleeding slows and the clear water takes on a soft shade of pink while mixing with the warm, red fluid from her body.

Touching her cheek with his hand.

Breathing her in like oxygen.

Holding on to her for dear life.

This is a nightmare. His daughter is back, but she is out of control. His wife is back, but she is completely unconscious and in seriously bad shape. And he wanted things to go wrong earlier?

"John, you officially earn the title of the universes' biggest dumb ass. It was uncertain there for a bit, but you take it in the home stretch big man." He had tempted fate and she came a knockin'. When would he learn his lesson? He was looking for something to go wrong, and he'd gotten it. He'd gotten problems in spades.

Not just little problems; problems that had the ability to really screw up their lives in a huge way.


	11. Chapter 10: No Peace in the Silence

**Chapter 10 **

**No Peace in the Silence**

An arn later and John has Aeryn cooled, dressed in his shorts and a tank top, clean bandage tightly wrapped around her head. She is resting on the bunk above the soft covers. She's yet to stir, but she's no longer flushed and sweating. Her breathing isn't ragged and she appears to be in less pain, as if he can tell that when she can't even talk, can't tell him how she's feeling.

_Gotta have a little hope in something._

It's so damn late, heading towards morning he's sure, but hell if he can sleep. He can't even sit for two seconds without his mind taking him in a thousand different directions; like a merry-go-round gone terribly wrong; the kind of ride that makes you nauseous and dizzy and not in a good way.

John hasn't left Aeryn's side. His hand is resting gently on her head, brushing back soft, dark wisps at her hair line with his fingers. God, he loves her more than anything.

He sighs and stands to stretch his back, if for no other reason than to get the blood flowing into his legs. He meanders out of their quarters and down the corridor towards first Jack and then D'Argo's room. They're both resting in their beds soundly sleeping. He palms the door open and walks in slowly without fear of waking either of his boys.

He stands over his eldest son's bunk, looking at his face, rubbing a thumb lightly under a cut on D's forehead. They've barely been back 4 arns and the boy looks like he's aged 5 years right before his eyes. He's _not_ a boy any more, he's a man.

John quietly steps over to Jack's bunk and rests the back of his hand on his small son's cool cheek before brushing several pieces of blonde hair away from the boy's face.

_Think I might try that idea Uncle Ralph used to spout about setting a damn brick on his head; see if I can keep him from growing any more._

He quietly turns to leave and follows his wandering thoughts a bit further down the corridor to Taly's quarters. She's not sleeping; he can see the soft light seeping from the grating on the door. However, he can hear her rustling around on the bunk and that satisfies him. At least he's sure she's actually there, though he's not sure if he's up to another "talk" with his daughter right now so he stays clear of her view.

He can't help but wonder as he walks back to his quarters, if it would have been this damn hard being a father and husband on earth.

"Of course it wouldn't have John, this is utterly insane. Your life is one big ball of _insanity_," He mumbles, kicking at the air.

But it also wouldn't be this amazing. He wouldn't have Aeryn by his side. And_ god_ does he need her. He wouldn't have these amazing kids. He wouldn't know anything beyond the smallness of that existence.

_John Crichton, Human from Earth; that far away planet that no one has ever really heard of. _

He can't imagine his life any other way. Screw that. He wouldn't trade any of it, not one second.

John wanders back in to their quarters to see Aeryn still out like a light on the bed. He watches her chest heave, up and down - up and down, as she breathes rhythmically. And he reclaims his perch beside her, resting his hand back on her forehead; as much to gauge her temperature as to gauge her existence, her presence.

He sighs and rests as much as his wired mind will let him. His body is begging for sleep, but his brain is demanding that he stay awake, focus all of his attention on her.

But that doesn't stop his mind from continuing to wander, thinking back to when he'd first landed out here. Back to when he'd first met Aeryn, the trip back to earth, losing her and finding himself, to D'Argo's birth and the beginning of their family.

Before he knows what's happening he is roughly slammed back against the bed, his head grazing the solid wall behind it with a loud thud on the way down.

"Shit!" he exclaims, reaching his hand towards the back of his head to feel for blood, but she catches it before it arrives at its destination.

Aeryn is straddling him, pinning him down; the strength of her body belying her slight weight.

"Whoa! Whoa there baby, it's just me. You're back. You're safe," John pleads, attempting to meet her frantic eyes.

Her breathing is heavy and her pupils are dilated. Confusion washes over her face as her movements become calmer. Regardless, recognition floods into her eyes and she lifts her hands to graze his face. The tables have flipped and it's her turn to confirm that he is really there, underneath her, alive and for the most part unharmed.

John grabs her hand with his and brings it to his mouth. He is _so _damn relieved to see her eyes open; he doesn't care if she kicks his ass straight out of the room.

"Well, this feels vaguely familiar, like a dream, from a long time ago," he smiles, rubbing her cool cheek with his thumb. "You gave me a hell of a damn scare there, wife."

Her posture relaxes and she slides off of him, resting her head against the softness of the bed, never letting her hand, or her eyes leave his face. She's rubbing his cheeks softly with her finger tips like she's trying to re-learn every inch of his skin.

"I don't know what happened. I thought you left," Aeryn whispers, fear evident in her voice as her reality mixes with heat induced dreams and long buried fears.

He lifts his head and kisses her gently on the lips. "No way, not a chance. I'm here, I'm right here. Doesn't matter what happened. You're okay, I'm okay, and we're back."

"Taly?" She questions.

She doesn't remember a single detail since they'd parted ways.

"She's right down the hall, ready for a good rumble." He chuckles with a smile. The relief is evident on his face, he's sure of it. He can't contain it and it feels like a drug. He feels high.

She smiles at him as her eyes flutter shut again. He leans up and kisses each of her eyelids, checking her bandage to make sure she's not bleeding again after the short burst of movement, and he lies down beside her.

His hand never leaves the softness of her hair and he finally allows his eyes to shut. She is going to be okay. It's all going to be okay and his mind can't deny his body any longer, it's fighting a losing battle.

He kicks his boots off, never moving from the bed, never opening his eyes, and let's sleep take over. Exhaustion mixed with the natural high is a potent combination and before he can process another thought he is lost deep in slumber. Dreams of color, light, and movement take him away from everything that has just happened. And they bring with them for a while, just a little while, peace.

- -

She wakes with a start, head pounding and heart thumping. She can't catch her breath and everything is a blur.

"Frell," Aeryn mumbles as she rubs at her aching head, abruptly grazing over the area of the gash before remembering why it is exactly that her head hurts so badly.

She slowly lies back down, trying not to aggravate the wound any more than she already has.

What a frelling brutal two solar days this had been. She can't decide if she is still suffering effects of the heat, of that frelling planet, or if she's just entirely frustrated at the situation as a whole; at the way her body familiarly reacted to the mixture of elements and exertion. She stairs at the golden ceiling of the quarters and grits her teeth in anger as memories of how exactly she ended up in this condition come trickling back.

_Failure and weakness._

Her body is a machine, well trained and well honed. It has rarely let her down. If she can't depend on it then she is frelled; a realization that again stood to shake the very foundation of all of her confidence. The fact that it was something as natural as heat delirium that had brought on the comatose condition offers her little solace.

She rustles on the bed, turning to face John.

She remembers waking early, remembers the fear that coursed through her veins like a foreign substance freezing her insides.

Confusion.

Nightmares.

Pain.

It seems almost too good to be true, the fact that he is sleeping soundly beside her. He is still fully clothed, his hair matted to his head with sweat. There are smears of dried blood on his face and hands and there are traces of dirt on his forehead, his entire body it would appear.

She looks down at herself, fresh clothing and clean limbs and realizes that he must have cleaned her up, neglecting himself in the process.

_Typical of him._

The concept of someone or something else coming before himself being one of the pillars of holding up everything he stands on.

It is still a strange feeling, even after all this time, that realization that she comes first to him and that he comes first to her.

Aeryn reaches over and rubs his cheek and he rustles slightly. Lines of exhaustion under his eyes, she's almost certain that he had been awake since they'd left for the planet.

She kisses him softly, a feather-light touch, as she considers what to do next. Thirst eventually prompts her movement and she crawls over John and out of the bed. She licks dry lips, frowns at the signs of her body's dehydration.

She's so thirsty and her lips are dry and cracked as she licks at them. She still doesn't feel entirely steady on her feet and she has to clutch the edge of the bed in order to keep herself from falling. She quickly dresses, clean black shirt and leather pants, and pulls her hair back with a tie as she wanders out of their quarters and towards her boys.

D'Argo is still sleeping deeply. Her mind wanders back to the situation he has just been through, what he has just accomplished.

He is a man, and he is going to be okay.

Jack isn't in his bed and she's not sure what time it is, how many arns she's been sleeping.

Her daughter; her daughter is _finally_ back and she has no idea what to think, what to do.

Aeryn slowly, cautiously, wanders down the corridor and to the girl's quarters. She needs to see her, needs to look at her face. Needs to make sure this is real, not just another gut wrenching dream.

- -

_**Full Circle**_

Aeryn stands rigid outside the grated doors; finally finding the perfect spot to quietly settle out of her daughters sight but still able to see her clearly. She leans her body close against the hard bulkhead to her right, letting Moya's lining cool her forehead and her exposed skin.

_Why is it so hot in here?_

She is burning hot, so frelling hot, yet it isn't the environment that's causing the problem; it's her reaction to the girl; the girl who was gradually growing into a woman.

She was only a baby the last time Aeryn had seen her; a small child, all innocence and play. Small enough for Aeryn to hold the girl close to her chest, yet old enough for Taly to begin talking and hugging her mother back.

_How the frell is this even possible?_

She can't take her eyes off the bunk where the girl sits; they are glued to her, mesmerized. The girl is so much her father and so much…well, her.

Her daughter sighs, annoyed at the confines of her current situation, and blows a strand of loose hair from her face with the side of her mouth. Sandy blond hair pulled back tightly with a standard issue Peacekeeper hair tie, tendrils falling and softly sweeping the sides of her face. The gesture is a visible sign of her growing impatience that appears to be quickly leading to frustration.

She still has the same piercing blue eyes she had as a child, the same eyes of her father. They are sharp and unending, deep like a great body of water.

The blue reminds Aeryn of John's earth.

Something she'd always loved about him she now sees so clearly in their offspring.

The girl is tall and thin, like her body has decided to grow up before it has a chance to grow out and catch up with itself. Yet she is muscular from years of training as a Peacekeeper cadet. Hard, almost cruel training that Aeryn is all too familiar with. Training that has a way of turning small children into rigid, lean fighters. Taly's face still holds soft, fine features - so much of John, so much of herself.

Her daughter - she still can't wrap her mind around that glaringly overwhelming concept. Has her mouth, her cheek bones, and a few freckles spotted on her nose and forehead. Still in the process of growing, her leathers hang loosely on her chest and her hips, waiting to be filled out

Taly picks up a small, silver trinket that John had set at the foot of the bunk before the concept of her occupying it had even entered their mind. It is something from the girl's childhood that they were unwilling to let go of, unwilling to put away. A chapter of their life that they had left opened until they could continue it.

They had never lost the hope that they _would_ be able to continue it, make it right. The trinket is a child's toy, something common and replaceable, yet she looks at it with a sense of wonder. Something that should have been so familiar to her, yet it is as foreign as a Luxan in water. The girl turns the small child's puzzle in her fingers gingerly and sets it down as if touching it will contaminate her.

She takes another quick look around her quarters and finally the dam of emotion breaks.

In the seeming privacy of the room, the girl doesn't even try to hide her confusion and fear. Small fists wipe at large tears, a dripping nose, tired eyes. She continues on like this for some time before finally giving up and lying back on the bunk due to sheer exhaustion. All Aeryn can think of is holding her, comforting her child the way she should have been able to all along.

Before she even has a chance to reign in her unhinging emotions, her own tears are wetting her face.

So much guilt; there is so much guilt waiting to come to the surface.

So much missed time, so much to make up for. So much that they can't change and so much that they'll never know.

These are feelings that she can't remember having dealt with in a very long time, if ever.

This is her child, part of her and part of John. A product of their love, a concept that used to be so frelling foreign to her, something she couldn't even wrap her mind around; didn't _want _to wrap her mind around. And then she held D'Argo in her arms for the first time and couldn't imagine her life any other way. Any hope of going back to the way things were before were lost at that point.

They are more than a _part_ of her.

They _are_ her.

This girl is her, and yet she doesn't even know the child. She hastily wipes at her cheek before deciding to just let the tears fall; fall into nothing because that's what she feels like doing. She has never, in all of her cycles, shied away from a task, a challenge. She is a soldier. But this task, this emotional task, it seems almost overwhelming to her.

She feels a soft brush on her bare shoulder, a sweeping dance of rough fingers and gentle touch.

"S'okay baby; Things are gonna get better from here. The hard part's over. We've got her- back and we won't let her go for a long time," her husband whispers in her ear, quite aware of her position as spy. He softly kisses her temple and she rests her hand on top of his as it sits on her shoulder.

She leans into him, relying on his strength, something she rarely feels the need to do, but this is bigger than even her. She shakes her head slightly, making her uncertainty known, and lets the tears continue to softly fall, cooling her cheeks. It's _not_ okay. None of this is okay. It would take a long time before any of this could _possibly_ be okay.


	12. Chapter 11: The Space Between

**The Space Between**

Space is bright as it spills out in front of her. It shines in, illuminating the room and everything inside it.

They must have stumbled into some kind of star field over night and she revels in the light as it hits her face. Light should mean warmth, but this light is surrounded by the cool air from the vent shafts and it feels absolutely frelling perfect.

Stars scatter out before her, for as far as she can see, in every direction.

Red.

Purple.

Yellow.

A stark contrast to the darkness of space and the unending nothingness of that concept.

The terrace is quiet. The only sound Aeryn hears is her own regular breathing and she lets her eyes flutter shut, seeing the impression of stars behind the lids.

The medicinal herbs that Noranti had given her for the headache are making her feel groggy and aimless. Dizzy with apathy and some scrambled form of joy and she smiles for the sheer sake of working the muscles.

She's glad that she has already greeted her youngest son with kisses and hugs, welcoming embraces and laughter. She feels lightheaded now and she's not sure if she can stand, let alone follow his thousand metra an hour words as they spill from his giddy mouth.

He's settled in comfortably, working on a model and eating a Prevy biscuit for his morning meal, and she had needed to find a solitary place to reflect on what has happened over the past 48 arns.

However, the herbs are making that task of quiet reflection difficult at best.

A cool breeze from the air shafts lifts her hair from her shoulder as it sweeps up and around her. She breathes it in, letting it fill her insides, relishing the coolness when the memory of painful heat is still so fresh in her mind.

Aeryn hears the familiar sound of the door panel whirring open behind her, but she can't take her eyes off of the stars; so many colors and so many spots of light spreading out before her.

John roughly plops down beside her on the ground, his hips bumping against hers as he slides as close as he can get, his arm surrounding her back as he moves his hand to a position of support on the floor by her side.

"Well, it is so good to see you up, moving…and not trying to kick my ass," He smiles as he leans in to kiss her gently on the cheek.

His lips are warm and soft against her skin and she can't help but lean in to him. A familiar and welcome feeling of desire and hunger stirring inside of her.

She giggles. _SHE_ giggles and shocks herself. The sound of giggling so foreign to her mouth and her voice it takes her by surprise and she hears John laugh besides her.

Her reactions to any kind of pain remedy are glaringly obvious. "Someone has been cozy with the happy pills this morning huh?"

"Noranti gave me something for my head, it wasn't much really. Just some herbs," She utters, the silly smile never leaving her face.

_What the hezmana is wrong with you? You're acting like a frellnick._

"Hmm, I never would have guessed," He jokes. "Did they help?"

"I don't really feel anything, if you don't count the fact that I think I might be floating right now. So, if that is what you consider helping, I'm going to have to give you a very big yes on that one." She says looking at him, all serious.

It lasts for a split microt before she's laughing again, and her laughter must be contagious because John starts and he can't seem to stop either.

"We've got her back," Aeryn breaks through the laughter like the realization of what has just happened is finally hitting her, settling like a thick fog. Her emotions feel like a quick trip over mountains and valleys. Up and down, out of control.

Before she knows what's happening she's crying. "We got her back. She's back. One of your plans actually worked."

John smiles and wipes the tear from her cheek with the back of his hand. Slowly smoothing the moisture away and resting his fingers on her jaw.

"We got her back, and I got you back. It's finally over," He whispers in her ear.

She needs him.

She wants him, and she needs him.

She loves him like her frelling life depends on it. In fact, she's pretty much certain at this point that it does.

Aeryn turns and leans in to him heavily, quickly taking his lips with hers. She tastes him everywhere, his mouth, his chin, his cheeks, his eyelids. She needs to taste every bit of him.

She apparently awakens the same need in him the second they touch, and she can feel him in her hair. Breathing her in, John's tongue on her ear, on her jaw and she shudders against him as he holds her so tightly against his body.

They are alone. For the first time since they have gotten back they are both aware and alert and this isn't about slowness, or gentle desire. This is about need, and passion, urgency, and an unbridled necessity of having each other as close as physically possible.

"Pilot, can you shut off the comms for just a little while?" John asks in a gruff voice, impatient and slightly demanding.

Pilot must sense the strange tone in his voice and he responds quickly. "Yes Commander. Is there a problem?" he questions.

"No, no problem," heavy breathing, eyes locked on each other. "Just need a little bit of time here to work a few things out."

_Relieve some tension, release some fluids. It's necessary. Really._

"Work some _things_ out? Is that what we're calling it now?" Aeryn asks feeling giggly again.

"We can call it whatever the hell you want," John says moving towards her mouth again, his eyes dark and hard; a one track mind.

He doesn't capture it in time and the giggles spill out, which she can tell amuses and frustrates him.

_Frell this. frell it_.

She feels so good with him and she needs him now.

Aeryn roughly kisses him again. Biting at his lips, drawing warm blood from his skin and tasting it on her tongue.

"I'm sorry," She whispers between breaths.

"Don't be," he says licking at the small cut that she has left. A battle wound, a sign of an impassioned struggle.

"Don't," She urges stopping him from licking at it. She wipes the small wound with her finger slowly, feeling the warmth of his heated skin, and kisses him again, equally as hard and equally as fast.

Hands are everywhere. She pushes him back to the ground as he strips off her shirt and unzips her pants.

Heavy breathing, aching nerves.

John's careful not to bump or brush her forehead, the cut and bruise reminding him quickly of the injury.

"Are you okay? Are you sure you're ready for this?" Always concerned for her, always looking out for her.

"Stop John," Aeryn snaps in an almost frustrated voice, catching herself as his eyes grow confused.

She slows the pace slightly and rubs his cheek, smiling at him. "Stop talking, I'm fine."

The confusion is gone in a microt and he has her leathers off and his hands are touching her in all of the right places.

She feels crazy, like she's going to rip apart. After all these cycles he knows exactly where and how to touch her, how to push her right to the edge and how to make her fall right over it.

His hands are rough against her tender skin and the warmth and rhythm are insanely hard for her to resist. She can feel herself losing control and she pushes into him as he moves his fingers inside of her, palm rough against her, fingers moving.

She's grasping at his chest and she is completely gone; vulnerable his movements and he frelling knows it as he slows down slightly.

"Don't frell with me John," She growls between breaths, meeting his eyes as he laughs at the power he has over her right now.

Not a microt later he picks up again and before she knows what's happening her back is arched and she is over the edge. Aeryn clenches around his fingers and moves her hips against him, heavy, ragged breathing making her feel like she might just pass out right there.

He doesn't give her time for that though, he is so ready himself and he pulls her roughly down on top of him, capturing her lips in his teeth and moving his tongue against hers and it doesn't take her body long to begin to respond to everything he's doing again.

John's hands are on her breasts, rough and grasping, gently massaging her skin as he feels every inch of her. Those hands that feel so good, like familiar friends. Comforting and constant. Even after all this time there is no one that she wants more than him.

His breath is staggered and she knows that he needs to be inside of her now and she moves and guides him right to where she needs him most.

He fills her completely and she is ready again too as she begins to move against him.

Rough and rhythmic.

He is grasping her back and her hands are in his hair. They are face to face, can't possibly get any closer to each other but that doesn't stop them both from trying.

Aeryn guides his hand back down to where they are joined, knowing that with his help she will be ready when he is.

Consistant movement, inside and outside. All of her sensations are on overload, she can't think straight. Frell the drugs, this is all she needs.

He moans her name as he explodes inside of her, heat and heartbeat and she is clenching around him before she even knows what's happening. Her head back, his name on her tongue and his hair in her fists.

She completely and utterly loves him and she doesn't hesitate to say so.

"I love you too, so much," John huffs between staggered breaths and heartbeats. She can feel his heart beating against her chest as she lies on top of him and she smoothes his hair, kissing his lips and breathing him in as they slowly come down together.

They needed this time. It is so painfully evident and she finally feels complete.

Aeryn lays her head against his chest, looks out at the stars that are still shining in on the terrace and John slowly follows her gaze.

His hands are rubbing her back as their breathing evens out she knows that he sees what it is that holds her attention.

Stars, space, light and color. Aeryn.

The star, her star. They were in familiar territory and things seem like they've come full circle some how as he kisses the top of her head and she closes her eyes.

She finally feels truly at peace for the first time in nearly seven cycles.

- -

He saunters slowly down the bright, golden corridor of the ship, _his_ ship, his home. The only home he has ever truly known. His hand skips and bounces over the warm surface of the bulkheads as he walks along. He loves this Leviathan, she's part of his family and he is as protective of the great creature as he is of his brother, and now his sister, again.

He hasn't seen her yet. Not since he watched her hanging limply in his father's arms back on the hot planet. With air that went down like thick sludge. Frelling terrible, he wouldn't forget that any time soon.

She had grown up, still a child, but not the baby he so fondly remembers. Not the baby that he hugs close to his face in the small, tattered photograph he carries in his sweaty palm.

His legs and arms are sore and bruised from the physicality of the ordeal, yet he feels stronger somehow. Like he's finally proven himself to his father and mother. He's finally proven his worth to himself. Maybe he _is_ deserving of his namesake after all.

_D'Argo._

He takes a deep breath, swelling with a slight bit of boyish pride at the bravery and urgency of the situation as he swipes several pieces of his lose hair out of his eyes.

_D'Argo Sun Crichton, finally ready to take on the universe. _

He stops short, just a few steps from his sister's door. She has been locked in her quarters since they had returned.

The girl is angry, and scared, and he doesn't frelling blame her for a microt. But at the same time he desperately wants to see her up close, talk to her, see if she remembers him. Maybe he could help her understand these frelled up circumstances.

Or maybe not.

He isn't really sure he understands them himself. It felt, some days, that the universe was out to get his family. One thing after another. Perhaps they were jinxed.

But, on the other hand, all of these cycles later, after a dren-load of insanity, the Sun-Crichton's kept going. Kept surviving, and hell, here they are.

Maybe there is a bit of luck in that after all.

He can hear her talking to herself. Maybe she's singing? Her voice is melodic, reminiscent of something he's heard before. It's soothing, and soft, much different than his mothers and yet the same somehow.

D'Argo peaks his head around the door panel, through the grating, to get a good look at her.

She's tall, her hair is different, and he has to look back down at the picture in his hands to make sure he is really looking at the same girl. But once he sees the small face of the blonde haired baby and compares it to the girl standing in the room before him, he knows that he is. Blue eyes and Sandy hair; she looks like their father and she is beautiful.

She must hear his boots scuff the floor outside of her confines because she is immediately on edge. Before D'Argo knows what's happened she is at the door, small hands clasped around the grating, peering as far as she can to catch sight of the presence outside of her prison.

_Some frelling spy you are._

"Who the frell are you?" his sister exclaims when she catches his skittish gaze.

Ah, she is just like their mother. He can deal with her, he is confident of it now.

He jams his hands quickly into his pockets, a slight blush creeping up his neck to warm his face.

_Damn, is it hot in here? _

He stutters stupidly, "Ahh…Umm…I'm D'Argo."

_Great, that's just great frellnick. She's gonna think you're crazy. Hell, she probably thinks you're **all** crazy at this point._

"D'Argo. Should that mean something to me? Because it doesn't."

But he can tell by the slight sparkle of recognition in her blue eyes that it does.

He steps up to the grated doors placing his hands around it, just above hers even though he towers a good three heads taller than her.

"I'm your brother," It's deep and confident, as certain as he can make it. He's gotta make sure that she knows the order of power around here. He was the first and he is the oldest.

"Frell you," Taly spits.

His sister has a mouth like a Zenetian Pirate, but he likes her spunk.

"No, I'm serious," D'Argo replies working his best and most charming smile. All teeth and slight dimples.

"I'm busy, do you mind?" She states shortly as she turns back to her bunk.

"Planning your escape?" He will get something out of her.

"What's it to you?"

_A challenge. _

"Pilot?" D'Argo calls shifting his attention for a microt. "Can you let me in to Taly's quarters?"

The door panel whirs open in front of him as the girl sits roughly on the bunk and he steps in slowly as it closes behind him.

"Thanks buddy," he drawls, turning to face her.

"You're welcome D'Argo," Pilot responds through his comms.

This gets her attention.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Pilot, he controls Moya," D'Argo says sitting on the ground across from her.

"Leviathans actually need the Pilot to control things?" she asks.

He chuckles slightly, intentionally showing his amusement at her apparent incompetence.

"Didn't they teach you anything at Peacekeeper kiddie school?" he questions with a smirk.

That garners him an angry glare and a stiff shift in posture.

Taly crosses her arms in defiance. "What the frell do you know about it?" she demands.

"Well, obviously a _helluva_ lot more than you, and that's gotta say something."

She turns her back to him. Maybe this isn't the best tactic after all.

D'argo sighs with frustration. This is _not_ going at all as he'd planned. He gets up to walk closer and take a position directly in front of her bunk. He extends his hand, offering her a form of greeting that his father used all the time.

"Let me try this again. I'm your brother, D'Argo. It's been a long time Talyse'un."

She looks at his hand with a puzzled expression, wary of his changed demeanor.

"What?" she asks.

Well, this is a start; at least she isn't flipping him over and kicking his ass.

D'Argo reaches down, grasps her smaller hand in his, and shakes it firmly up and down. "It's just a greeting, you know, hello, how you doing?"

Another look revealing hard blue eyes that are probably questioning his sanity.

"It's an Earth thing. Ask Dad sometime." He smiles. "Can I sit?"

"Don't count either of those things," she huffs, never meeting his eyes.

D'Argo sighs, ignoring her response, and sits on the floor directly in front of her as he reaches up and hands her the ragged picture.

Taly eyes the object with disgust. "What is this?"

"It's a photograph. It's you and I. When you were little, before you were...taken," he mutters. He's done with joking. He wants her to know what this means to their family. How much they want her here.

"Oh, it's a photograph? Really, I had _no_ idea," She sneers sarcastically.

Her eyes soften, betraying her hard demeanor, as she looks at the picture. The small blonde haired girl a stark contrast to her brother's dark hair and lanky body. He is holding her tight in the in the photograph, practically smashing her cheek against his own. It was taken on some planet, someplace where there was light and a breeze. He can see her smile slightly as she stares at it microt after microt. She looks down and buries her mouth in the crook of her arm to hide the reaction, but he can see it.

"This is me? Me and you?"

Now, now maybe he's on to something.

"It sure is. I used to take care of you. Anybody tried to get to you; they'd have to kick my ass first," he answers seriously.

"Well, I'm sure that wouldn't have been too hard," she mumbles as she judges his small, boyish form in the picture.

"Nah, probably not," D'Argo laughs. "But, it's a different story now. And they'd still have to kick my ass to get to you."

Taly snaps at the assumption: "I don't need you to protect me. I'm not a baby," The fire is immediate behind the blue in her eyes. "Besides, I don't intend to be here long enough for you to have to do anything of the sort."

"I wouldn't place a bet on that. Do you know how long we've been looking for you? Mom and Dad, they never stopped."

She is silent, no response.

D'Argo sighs.

"Day after day, cycle after cycle. None of us ever stopped thinking about you, looking for you. They love you. You've gotta see that." He's pleading now and he doesn't care.

"Are you out of your frelling mind?" Taly asks, eyeing him with a look of amazement. "I don't have a family."

D'Argo leans back on his hands.

"I don't have a family. _You're_ not my family. I don't even _know_ you." It comes out fast, like rapid fire pulse blasts. "I have a regiment and a unit and a duty and you can't keep me here."

"Hey, you know what? You_ do_ have a duty, and it's here. _WE_ need you. Frell those Peacekeeper bastards!"

He's angry. Why is she being so thick headed?

Before D'Argo knows what's hit him, she's off the bunk and on top of him, swift punch to his lip and he's bleeding already. Damn, she was fast and that frelling hurt. But he quickly gains the advantage and has her small wrists clasped firmly in his grip, holding tight, attempting to keep those little weapons away from his face.

"_You_ are the bastards. _You took_ me from my_ home_," she accuses breathlessly, emotion springing to her voice where there wasn't any before.

Sadness, fear, regret for what might have been? Perhaps a combination of it all he thinks, as the small stream of warm blood trickles down his chin.

"You obviously didn't try very hard to keep me, and then you come waltzing in and take me back! Who said I wanted to _go_ with you!" The girl is yelling now, and he doesn't feel the need to soften his response.

"You know what? You're right. _You're frelling right_! It's not fair. None of it is fair and I don't blame you for being pissed off. I don't blame you for hating the universe. Because you know what? It _frelled_ us all!" D'argo yells, still holding on firmly to her wrists. "_You_ were taken! _We_ lost you! How is _any_ of it frelling fair?"

Taly calms down, perhaps seeing it from _their_ side for the first time. Her arms go lax in his grip and he slowly lets go of her wrists realizing the threat is most likely gone for now. He scoots back, away from her, though still facing her.

"I'm sorry." He mutters completely sincere in his sympathy. "I'm sorry that all of this happened to you. But you're here now, and we want you here. _They_ want you here, more than _anything_. You've gotta believe me."

There's a rattle outside the door, in the corridor, the sound of something hitting the ground.

D'argo quickly jumps up to see what's going on beyond their frame of vision and he spots the blonde hair of their brother trying to hide behind a bulkhead to the right.

"Jack, go away you little drannit," he calls sternly over his shoulder as he walks back to sit down.

He laughs, pointing his thumb towards the door. "Your little brother, he's a hell of an eaves dropper. Watch out for him."

"No, I think I can come in and talk to you too," Jack snits while walking in front of the door. He's gawking at the girl and he doesn't even try to hide it.

_Little frellnick_.

"GO away, seriously. Go find something to break," D'argo's patience is wearing thin. The kid is everywhere he is, all the frelling time.

"Are you gonna make me?" Jack challenges as he jerks his tongue out in his older brother's direction.

_That's it, he's dead._

D'Argo jumps up and slams his hands into the door panel, which draws nothing short of a girly shriek from their brother as he runs off down the corridor as quickly as he can.

He turns back around in time to catch a slight smile on his sister's face and he wanders back over to sit in front of her.

She reaches her hand out to give him back the old photograph, but he shakes his head, denying the offering.

"It's yours now. I've been keeping it; waiting for this day. Now I want you to have it."

Taly fingers the rough corners of the photograph and nods, her face remaining blank as she carefully tries to hide her reaction to the gesture.

Perhaps all wasn't lost. Perhaps the universe _hadn't_ frelled them as badly as he thought that it had.


	13. Chapter 12: Firecrackers and Angel Wings

**Firecrackers and Angel Wings**

It has been four solar days since they brought her back.

Four solar days since they had started this unfamiliar journey of trying to find a working routine as whole family.

Four solar days of complete and utter frelling insanity.

So far, they have put her through several extensive medical exams, checked and double checked the girl, made sure she is okay and unharmed.

They have tried to get her to understand the convoluted situation, bogged down with too many years of hopeless uncertainty

_How do you explain that?_

And yet the only person she seems willing to talk or listen to without threatening is D'Argo. Everyone else gets a nice dose of the silent treatment. After the situation with John in the transport bay, her escape attempts have dwindled down to little more than talk.

Her husband has pulled a pulse pistol on their daughter in the middle of the sleep cycle and the girl, in turn, has been haunting Aeryn's dreams.

That is, when Aeryn is lucky enough to sleep.

_Sleep, what the frell is that?_

It's a rare luxury, one her mind hardly seems to be able to afford. She barely remembers what it feels like to actually sleep without hesitation or fitful nightmares.

Aeryn is tired.

She's so tired. She wants to hug the girl; she wants to make her understand the utter hezmana that they have been through without her. She wants to make her daughter understand all of the things that John has made her understand over the course of their time together.

_But look how long that has taken. _

Speaking of her husband, it has been a good twenty-four arns since they have spoken.

"A misunderstanding," John had said.

Their opinions on how to get through to their daughter are entirely opposite at this point, and she is tired of discussing it with him.

So she doesn't.

She avoids him, and sets about with lessons, tech work, and studying star charts. Trying to find a good planet to settle on for a few weekens to earn a little income, get away from the confines of this ship.

The obvious way to kick start Taly into coming around is to use force. Plain and simple. Not to hurt her, but to force her to see their point of view.

Sit her down and tell her, without hesitation, exactly what happened and exactly what's going to be done.

To force her to see that it was never their choice for her to be raised on a Command Carrier.

Tell her how it is and make her come out of this shell that she has crawled into.

"Give her time. Take it slowly. We have to let her work it out at her own pace, in her own way. If we force her, she'll just end up resenting us more," John had replied.

_Well, how much time does she need? _

She feels out of control, and if there is one thing Aeryn Sun hates it is being out of control.

The door to the quarters whirs open behind her, and she hears John's steady footfalls as he enters the small confines and shucks off his jacket; carelessly tossing it onto a chair.

She doesn't turn and she doesn't acknowledge his presence.

"You know, you can't avoid me forever," he mumbles with a sigh as he walks tentatively closer to her.

"Watch me."

She hates it when he challenges her.

"Aeryn, we have to talk about this and we have to talk about it now. We're in this together and hell if I'm gonna sit back and watch you be pissed off at me over a little difference about the way we raise the kiddos," he says wearily, sitting beside her at the small corner table. "This is a drop in the bucket compared to some of the insanity we've been through together."

Talking. Frelling humans and their talking. Most of which doesn't even begin to make any sense at all.

"A little difference? Is that what you call this?" She laughs doubtfully, finally meeting his gaze. "It's hardly _little_ John. She won't even frelling talk to us and you seem perfectly content to let it go on for as long as she'd like it to."

"There is absolutely no way we can force her to see our side of this, not yet, not right now Aeryn." He tries to grab her hand to secure her reaction, but she pulls away. "Look, she's scared. She's confused. She barely knows who the hell we are! How would you respond in that situation, given your background?"

John's right. He knows her better than she knows herself.

"I know this is hard, I know it is, trust me. It's killing me. I don't know how to get through to her either, but forcing her to our side…it's not the right answer."

Aeryn gives in and finally lets him take her hand into his as he rests them both on the table, his thumb softly stroking the skin of her palm.

"We're gonna get through this. Look at all the shit we've faced." John says with confidence in his blue eyes. "I mean, this is nothing Aeryn. We've gone through worse, and I'm sure we will again. And we've always managed to make it out on the other side, together. Me and you baby. This time isn't going to be any different."

He stands and kisses her on the forehead before he walks over to the bed and crawls in, kicking his boots off and slinging them sloppily to the side of the room.

Aeryn sighs, turning to look at him.

"You are so frelling hard-headed. Do you realize that?" she questions, half jokingly.

"I know. One of the many reasons you find it so hard to resist me right?" He rolls on his side, facing her and patting the bed next to him beckoning her over, his head resting on his palm.

Why did fate see fit for her to fall in love with a mad man, a HUMAN no less? Such a crazy, passionate, and completely unlike her, mad man.

Aeryn smiles ruefully at the thought as she slowly stands. Her head is still bothering her, making every move calculated.

Sitting beside him, she reaches down to unlace her boots before slipping them off. Sliding back and lying down on her side, she fits comfortably into his arms, her back against his chest.

Back where she belongs. Back where things make sense.

He slides his arms around her, pulling her in and she feels his lips meet her hair as he breathes deeply and she closes her eyes.

Warm breath, soft touch.

For the first sleep cycle in at least two weekens she allows herself to fall into a deep slumber. Free of fitful dreams and unsettled rest; safe in the cocoon that she has come to rely on and wouldn't trade for her life.

- -

A long piece of parchment, weathered, torn, and yellowed from the passing of cycles, carefully marked on by his children, his wife, by himself.

Like a ghost.

A spirit of the past, of another world.

It's a simple chart, with English numbers and words drawn by four sets of steady hands,

_You're the only one familiar with the custom John-boy._

Earth, God, it seems like a dream. Like a myth. The great _Never-Never Land_, or Atlantis perhaps. Hell, even Krypton seems more real to him these days than that far away, blue planet he used to call home.

The parchment bears marks of his children's height at different ages. A piece of their past, a relic used to remember the simple things, the joy of watching his children grow a little bit, or a lot, each cycle.

John sits leaning against the warm wall across from the chart, looking at it cautiously; evaluating his next course of action, his next tactical move.

_Hell, who are you kidding John? This is about life. This is about family. There isn't gonna be an easy way to figure this one out, no simple calculations with maps and numbers and science. _

If Aeryn is right about anything, and she usually is, it's that emotions sometimes make things harder to deal with. Sometimes taking stock of the situation and the tactics and just getting the job done is the way to go.

But, he is a man. He is a human. To him nothing comes without a price. And the price is usually a part, a small piece or a big chunk depending on the blow, of his heart. Emotions are a part of every single thing that he does. That hasn't changed yet. And he is pretty much as sure as hell that it never will.

_5'9" - D'Argo, age 15. _

_3'9" and a half of a half " - Captain Jack, age 7._

_2'8" - Taly, age 3. _

Scribbles, the last thing he had seen his little girl attempt to write with her small hands. All smiles as she stretched high on little toes.

John sighs at the memory as he slowly stands, touching the edge of the tattered paper as if he is touching the moment itself.

He walks down the corridor towards Command where he knows his two eldest children are supposedly sitting quietly and working on lessons for the day.

He had an entire list of things he had wanted to get done but until he can figure out a way to make this right, to bring her around, then his mind isn't worth shit. He can't focus on his work; he can't focus on finding a planet to settle on for a weeken or two.

_You can't even focus on Aeryn, and that is a definite damn problem. _

John slowly walks into Command, getting a good look at the tall, handsome boy and the beautiful girl.

_Your offspring John, of course they're going to be lookers. They are Crichton's after all._

They're not doing any work. They're talking.

D'Argo had found a way in, and John isn't sure how the hell the boy had done it.

Taly has been talking to her brother, opening up to him, and for the first time since they had brought her back, she actually smiles with him.

It's like a double-edged sword to John. It feels so right to see the look of happiness on his child's face, but he doesn't have a clue how to achieve that on his end.

They both look up at him as he wanders over to the table they're occupying.

"So, uh…how's this studying going? Sure is different than the way we did school back home," he trails off realizing his children probably haven't clue what he's talking about.

"I must sound crazy to you two. It seems like another lifetime anyways," He continues.

For the first time since they brought her back, his daughter doesn't look away. She meets his gaze, softness in her eyes. His heart rate picks up speed for a microt at the mere thought that maybe; just maybe, they have a chance of breaking through.

"It's not like I didn't already know that you were crazy," she smiles tentatively, never breaking eye contact. "It took all of two microts around you to figure that out."

He laughs resting his hands on the table between them and leans in. "Well, you've got me there. I plead the Fifth."

Taly looks over at D'Argo with a questioning gaze.

"You'll get used to that," the boy says reading her confused gaze. "He talks like that a lot. Earth-speak and stuff."

She scrutinizes D'Argo with a subtle look. "Earth?"

_Home. _

"Home sweet home kiddo," John states with a longing smile. "D', can I grab you for just a second?"

D'Argo closes his book. "Sure Dad, what's up?"

"Won't take but a minute, I'll have you back to your studying in no time at all." John looks at them each in turn. "I mean, it really looks like you two were getting a lot done there. I'd hate to put an early end to this meeting of great minds."

A sly wink in the girl's direction is deserving of another half smile before she looks back down at her book.

John knocks on the table nonchalantly with his knuckles as he turns to walk back out into the corridor, his son trailing behind him.

Once he's pretty sure that they're out of ear shot, John poses the question that has been teetering on the tip of his tongue threatening to spill off.

"D' what's it gonna take?"

D'Argo glances back at his sister before meeting John's gaze. "What are you talking about Dad?"

"What is it gonna take for me and your mom to get through to her? What's it gonna take to earn her trust?" Hands in his pockets, he shoots a quick glance at the boy.

"She's scared Dad, she doesn't have a clue what's going on, beyond what I've told her." D'Argo begins tentatively, trying not to cross the line of trust that he has developed with his sister. "She's coming around, I know she is. I've told her about what happened, what I know. I've told her about you guys and how much you love her. Told her what we do, and where we go, why it's going to be okay. For the first time since she's been back Dad, over the past weeken or so, I really feel like she's gonna be okay with this; with all of it."

"Not without you she wouldn't," John pats his son swiftly on the shoulder. "You're a good kid D'."

"Yeah, well you owe me one I guess huh?" D' asks with a smirk.

"You like those pants covering your ass there boy?" John asks slyly, draping his arm around his son's shoulder. "Cause I provide those. Not to mention your shirt, and your food, and your schooling. You should stop me, by the way, because I could keep going. Point being, I'm pretty sure I don't owe you anything."

"Fair enough. That was a freebee then," D'Argo concedes.

They laugh together and a weight is lifted off of John's shoulders. They are so close, so damn close. He lets his mind relax just slightly.

Sit back and let time run its course.

- -

For the fourth time that weeken, Aeryn finds herself drawn back to the terrace; always ending up at the same place, sitting in the same exact spot over and over again.

A solitary perch, surrounded by stars, the cool breeze from the air shaft on her face, and space for as far as her eyes can see.

Space is a comfort to her right now.

Empty.

Unending.

Vast.

Like a path to the past and the uncertainty of the future.

Beautiful and frightening, uncertain and random.

She's always felt so comfortable with space, but somehow it has changed to her recently. Fear of the unknown was something she had never really allowed her mind to comprehend before.

She is the only one her daughter won't talk to, won't acknowledge or listen to.

Frelling ridiculous.

She is out of ideas, and out of options, and she just feels like jumping in her Prowler and flying for as far and as fast as she can. Who the frell cares where it leads to?

She needs to fly.

Her mind is everywhere. She had never found her thoughts to be something she had trouble controlling, but these past weekens have been a different story. She is lucky if she can reign them in long enough to get a few arns worth of sleep.

The past, present, future. They are all a blur.

_Tastes like yesterday…Beyond hope…Three isn't such a scary number... _

The door of the quiet room purrs open behind her and she doesn't recognize the footfalls as they meander towards her solitary spot on the ground.

Light steps, small gait.

Aeryn turns tentatively and catches sight of her daughter, dressed in Peacekeeper leather, hair spilling loosely on lean shoulders, and her breath hitches in her throat. She almost coughs, but holds the breath in, muffling the sound. The realization of this huge step is almost enough to bring her to tears.

Almost.

The girl stops short of her mother, looking down and meeting her eyes for a brief microt before they are drawn out to the same space that has been Aeryn's escape for so many solar days.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" She asks her daughter.

The girl replies softly, almost a whisper of a breath. "It's dark, it reminds me of home."

"Me too," Aeryn says patting the ground next to her. "Do you want to sit for a microt or two?"

Don't force her; take it slow, at her pace.

John's words ring in her head like a warning bell from far away. A warning not to push the girl; a warning to guard her heart. Sometimes she forgets that it needs protecting.

_Don't get your frelling hopes up. _

The girl timidly crosses the short amount of remaining space, coming to rest at Aeryn's side. Taly is hesitant, but she sits regardless, making sure to keep a bit of distance between them. Enough room for a quick escape, but close enough for Aeryn to easily reach out and touch her arm.

Make sure she's really there.

Stillness.

Breath.

Space.

They look on in silence and Aeryn loses track of how long they have been sitting, holding the same positions, and she doesn't care. She hopes it lasts forever. This is the most time she's spent with her daughter since they brought her back. The only time she's spent with her daughter that has been the girl's choice, a voluntary action.

Aeryn looks over to get a glimpse of her. Soft, long, brown hair that curls at the ends slightly, like her own. Delicate features, blue eyes locked on some far off star, steady breathing, her child. She is beautiful.

_Comfortable in my presence, the way she should be. _

"Once, a long time ago; I was a soldier, just like you." Aeryn says, tentatively breaching the silence, shattering that thin layer of ice that seems to remain between them with her words.

The girl looks up at her, a softness behind her eyes that Aeryn hasn't seen since she was a small child.

"I was a Peacekeeper, and it was my life." She continues, looking forward. "But then, one day, all of the sudden it seemed, I realized that I wasn't really living at all. I didn't even know what life was."

Taly looks back to the vast darkness of space, but she doesn't stop listening.

"What do you mean?" The girl asks quietly.

Aeryn smiles gently at the memories the question immediately brings to mind.

The time when life actually began.

"Love, it's a foreign concept isn't it? A hindrance, something that will weigh you down, frell up your missions? Isn't that what they taught us?" Aeryn questions, looking at her daughter, trying to gauge her reactions.

The girl nods, never taking her eyes off of space.

"They're wrong, you know. I know it seems logical, seems like it makes all the sense in the universe," she continues looking down. "Well, it doesn't really make any sense at all. What is the point in even living if you don't have something, someone to love, something to live for?"

Frell, she sounds like John.

The girl is playing with one of the frayed laces of her boots, listening intently, a sad and longing look on her face.

_I remember this life. _

"It took tragedy, a complete and utter frell up, for me to figure that out. It took losing the only life I knew, everything that I had ever known in the matter of a microt, for me to even begin to see that." Aeryn scoots just slightly closer to her daughter, looking at her profile and the similarities it holds to John's. She wants to be closer, wants to protect her.

_Don't rush her. _

"You see, I met your father, and after many, many frelling disasters, after I ran until I couldn't run any more; after cycles of trying to convince myself that I had everything that I needed in myself, in the military… I realized that I didn't want to be alive if I didn't have him.

"I didn't want to be alive if I couldn't protect him. And then I had your brother, and you, and all of a sudden I didn't care about the Peacekeepers, or my detail, or my unit, or flying a Prowler."

"You flew a Prowler?" Taly questions, an amazed look in her eyes as she gazes at Aeryn with a new light. Respect.

Aeryn notices her daughter's newfound determination. "I did once. I was a pilot, still am. Only now, I do it for myself, for our family, when I need to."

"What happened? Why didn't you care about your duty any more?"

"Well, I had a new group of people to live for. And this group was much more important to me, more special, different than anything I had ever known, in all of my cycles with the Peacekeepers." Aeryn sighs. "It was real. It was...well...love."

_Is this even coming out right? _

The girl gives her a questioning look.

_Don't frell this up. This might be your only chance._

"Oh, and I was irreversibly contaminated," Aeryn continues with a slight laugh as she looks at the girl.

_A smile. That is definitely a smile._

"I know, it's confusing and crazy and hearing it sounds completely frelling insane. It doesn't even make sense to me half of the time. But, I do know this. I didn't know I was living until I fell in love with your father, fell in love with you. More than that even; until I realized that it was okay to love your father. Okay to love my family."

Just a little bit closer. Brush the hair out of her eyes.

"There comes a time when you have to choose your battles Talyse'un." She rests her hand on top of the girl's and for the first time her daughter doesn't pull away. "Choose your causes, and trust me when I tell you; this one is worth fighting for. This one is worth the risk. Nothing that the Peacekeepers say, nothing that High Command says; nothing is worth living without this."

This family has become her life.

"We fought to bring you back, we will fight to show you why, and we will fight to make sure that you're safe. Always."

She will do whatever she has to do to keep this vow to her daughter and frell it all, they will be okay.


	14. Chapter 13: Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**One Step Forward…**

_Some day, in the middle of some week, somewhere._

_We've been clear of any sign of PK marauders for three weekens since we brought her back. No chase, no communication. If you ask me, something is very wrong. Our plans never go this well. Or maybe, MY plans never go this well._

_One Starburst here, let Moya rest, another Starburst there._

_Maybe this time we've really come through. Maybe this time fate has learned better than to fuck with John Crichton. Or maybe, it's just tired of fucking with John Crichton. Hell, either way, I'm not complaining because I'm tired too._

_It's hard to sleep, hard not to be constantly on guard; wondering what's going to go wrong. Taly is coming around, slowly but surely. Faster than I had hoped, slower than Aeryn had hoped. She's just like her mom. Could make for some interesting situations in the future. Aeryn's used to the boys club, she has been for a long time, it works for her. We'll see how these two react to stubborn female PK determination coming at them from the other side. _

_I've got a feeling that there could be some huge blow-ups in the future. Some interesting…situations, and I plan on staying as far out of the middle of them as I can. Hell if I'm going to go up against either of them when they're angry. And yet I'm so ready for that, so ready for anything that goes down as long as she's here, as long as she's safe._

_Bottom line is; it doesn't matter what happens. It was all worth it, every damn minute. Every minute of worry and struggle. Every minute of wondering if it was ever going to work out._

_Just to see her smile. Just to see the look on Aeryn's face. Just to realize that Taly is back, she's safe, and we're going to be okay._

_I'm no hero. I'm just a guy from Earth, trying to keep my family safe._

_Maybe things are going to work out after all._

_Over and out._

John closes the tattered, leather bound journal that he's been writing in for the past 20 minutes.

_Something to help keep me sane, or maybe just help me remember what it is that I was thinking on any given day. I am getting older after all._

He scans the large window before him in Command, looking for something, anything that might be out of the ordinary. Not that anything is really ever ordinary out here, but something that didn't look right even by these rough standards.

An unfamiliar craft, a star shining just a bit brighter than it should be.

Something, anything to let him know that the screwing wasn't entirely finished yet.

"Pilot, anything showing up? You spot anything weird, anything on the comms?" he asks hesitantly.

_Maybe you don't want the answer John._

"Nothing Commander," Pilot huffs in annoyance. "Nothing since we left the orbit of the planet several weekens ago, and definitely nothing since you asked us just 150 microts earlier."

John scratches at the nape of his neck. "It's going too well, this is going too smoothly."

_Don't over think it John, take it for what it is and just live for once._

Yeah, he could do that. He would do that, _but_ he can't let his guard down entirely.

He can do it, take it one day at a time.

His life is absolutely crazy, and he wouldn't trade it for _anything_ in the universe.

- -

Time passes slowly over the next few solar days.

It passes at a pace that says peace. But Aeryn doesn't feel peace. Not quite yet.

Traveling, pressing forward, moving on from the nightmares, from the uncertainty. Moving on to the future.

_And the way my life goes, who frelling knows what that means._

It has all happened so fast.

The girl is still reserved. They've all made some progress with her. Talking comes more easily. Their daughter is not as resentful, not as fearful of their intentions.

_Memories are gnawing at her, eating through the tough resolve, the tough exterior that the past seven cycles have thrown around her._

Aeryn can tell in the knowing glances that she gets from the girl sometimes. Tell in the way that she interacts with her brother, in the way that she interacts with her father.

_And sometimes, just occasionally, in the way she interacts with you._

But Talyse'un still spends most of her time shut away in her quarters. She reads occasionally, but most of the time she just stares. Lies on her bunk and dreams.

Dreams of the past, of the future perhaps?

_Nightmares and uncertainty._

Aeryn's not sure. She can only guess based on the way she felt after she lost everything that she had thought mattered to her.

_Nothing made any frelling sense. Not for a long, long time._

Her daughter cries sometimes, when she thinks no one can hear her. But Aeryn can always hear her, and it breaks her heart.

_She's coming around baby, nothing worth having comes easy. We've all made progress; just think of where we were three weekens ago. _

John would say, trying to help her keep things in perspective. Always there to keep her grounded when her frustration gets the best of her; when it blinds her to reality, to time and space.

But she still doesn't know how to deal with this.

_Frelling family._

It's like trying to fly a prowler when you've never been space bound. It's like trying to find your way around a foreign planet without any navigational tools to guide you in your journey.

_It's all worth it._

And she knows that it is. She knows that now, every bit of pain and confusion, every bit of fear and denial, it's all worth it.

Her callous past is nothing compared to what she knows now, what she knows can happen for all of them.

Aeryn is shaken out of her singular thoughts by the noise her youngest son makes as he drums his utensils against his clay plate, much more interested in seeing how far he can take it before he gets reprimanded than he is in actually eating any of the food that sits before him.

It has been a silent meal, no one having much to say.

_No one knowing exactly what to say._

Aeryn takes a bite of food from her plate, optimism waning. She's not hungry and not particularly enjoying this meal time. She isn't in the mood to fight with her son about eating, so she lets him continue with his frelling racket, biting down the urge to tell him to stop and just eat his frelling food.

John isn't doing much more than picking at his food either; obviously tired and frustrated. They have been on the run, trying to make sure they haven't been followed for weekens now. They are all absolutely ready to stop at the next planet they find and get out of the confines of Moya, even if it is just for a short amount of time.

He rests his hand on her thigh, massaging tight muscles.

"Mommy, can't I please go tell Taly about something? I'm not hungry anyways," Jack is fidgeting and sitting is becoming a challenge. He hasn't left the girl alone, looking for any excuse to pick at her, question her, or just stare.

"Curiosity killed the cat," John mumbles under his breath.

"No Jack, eat your food and sit down. Just for a few more microts please," Aeryn pleads, looking at the boy as John rubs her back, sensing her frustration, her exhaustion.

Even though sleep has been coming more easily and more frequently, the emotional weight of the situation is becoming hard to bear and is wearing on them all. John quickly speaks up in an attempt to neutralize the situation.

"Finish your food up buddy, then you can go talk to your sister about whatever you want okay?" he says, a life preserver to get them through yet another meal drowning in awkward silence.

"As long as she doesn't realize what a pain in the ass you are and tell you to buzz off. You know she will eventually," D'Argo mutters earning him a stern look from John. The tense atmosphere is even beginning to affect their eldest son's normally docile attitude.

"Or you could talk to me about it now Jack," Taly's timid voice floats from the corridor. She stands shyly by the door, not sure whether to come fully into the room or head back from where she came. "May I join you?"

Aeryn almost chokes on the small bite she has taken.

_Is this really happening? _

Taly hasn't wanted to join them for a mealtime yet. Preferring to keep what little contact she has with them to a minimum.

_Keep the odds on her side._

Taly seems to set her resolve, making a choice. A choice about her future, a choice about the path she's going to take.

"Yeah, sure kiddo," John says, sounding like he's trying to quell his excitement at this seemingly monumental step. He stands and pulls back the seat next to D'Argo for her to sit. The spot in which she would probably be most comfortable reserved and waiting.

There is an empty plate already set.

_John Crichton, the eternal optimist._

John fills her plate with the thick stew and smirks, "You've gotta be hungry. Do you like Helatean stew? Might not be the best you've ever had, you know, considering I made it and all, but it _was_ made with love."

"Which doesn't make up for the lack of flavor unfortunately," D'Argo quips with a smile and a knowing glance at the girl.

"Well then buddy, next time you can cook. What do you say about that?" John replies.

"No, not a chance in hezmana that's happening. We _would _like to live after all," Aeryn says to her son, eyes never leaving the girl.

The tension breaks and she allows herself a deep breath of relief as they laugh.

Aeryn Sun doesn't joke, but she does know the absolute right buttons to press when she wants to tease, and that she does very well.

_She's laughing, their lost little girl, their soldier, is actually laughing._

John reclaims his seat next to her, immediately taking her free hand in his, where it belongs. He squeezes tightly and his strong thumb never stops rubbing the back of her hand.

It's a simple gesture that says more than a thousand words possibly could.

It says I love you.

It says that this is their family now and always.

It says that this has all been worth it, everything. Every frelling microt.

And it says that maybe, _just maybe_, things are going to be okay.

_the end_


End file.
